


Brothers - Interludes

by CastorLycan



Series: Brothers [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1980s, Adoption, Brothers, Family Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Spanking, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 55,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9568394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastorLycan/pseuds/CastorLycan
Summary: The story of the Loftons and Wades continues with these one-shots! Some are fluffy, some are angsty, some are set in the past, and some in the near future or present. The time period and ages of the characters are given within each chapter.  If you are new to this series, their main story is available onAmazon!Chapters:1: Ice Cream Interlude - 19852: Bicentennial Interlude - July 4, 19763: The Cutter Interlude – 19724: The Too Thoughtful Interlude - 19855: The Fashion Interlude – August, 19806: The "But I'm in high school!" Interlude – 19837: The Camping Interlude – Summer 1985 and flashback to 19778: The Hungry Interlude - 19809: The New Normal Interlude – 198410: The Babysitting Interlude – 197711: Thanksgiving Interlude – 197512: The Christmas Gift Interlude - 198213: The Racky Interlude - 198414: The Stepping Out Interlude - 198515: Ramsey's Seaside Holiday - 198216: The Expo Interlude - 1974





	1. Ice Cream Interlude

This chapter takes place any time after Brad goes to live with the Loftons.  
The Lofton brothers: John 24, Eddie 20, Brian (aka Cutter) 16, James 15, Jeff 14  
The Wade brothers: Brad 18, Ramsey 14

**Late One Tuesday Night**

**Ramsey**

It was Jeff's idea. He wanted to see if we could sneak downstairs in the middle of the night and get ice cream without waking any of the others.

"How are WE going to wake up?" I asked. 

"I'll stay awake, and as soon as James is asleep and it's quiet, I'll come wake you up. It'll be fun!" 

"What if we get caught?" 

"We won't! Come on! My brothers are such lame-os, they'd never do this with me." 

That clinched it for me. "Okay. I'll try to stay awake." 

I didn't, of course. We got sent to bed at our usual early bedtime, and I read until 9:30 rather than go to sleep right away in an effort to stay awake. I pretended to be asleep when John tucked Cutter in. My pretend sleep turned to real sleep, and the next thing I knew it was dark and a hand was shaking my foot from over the covers. I started to sit up, then remembered, and froze. I slipped out of the covers and crawled to the end of the bed, thinking this would have been impossible with my cast – I was so glad to be rid of it! I had almost made it when Jeff stifled a giggle, and Cutter woke up. Jeff and I both froze. Cutter sat up and looked at us by the light of the nightlight. 

"You're dreeeeeeeeaming," Jeff said in what he thought was a spooky dreamtime voice, but then he laughed, and I don't think Cutter was fooled by it anyway. 

"What are you idiots up to?" he whispered. 

"Ice cream!" Jeff whispered excitedly. 

"Ice cream?" 

"Yeah, we're going to sneak downstairs," I whispered. 

"I'm in." 

Jeff looked at me in surprise, then silent-mouthed, "Yay!" 

We crept down the hallway heading for the back staircase. Cutter detoured to James and Jeff's room. "What are you doing?" Jeff whispered. 

"I bet he'll want some too." 

Well, if he could get James, I could get Brad. I woke up Brad with a shhing finger to my lips, and soon all five of us were creeping down the back staircase. James turned on the one little light over the table, and Cutter dished up five bowls of ice cream. We sat around the table trying to be quiet as we ate and laughed, enjoying our sneakiness and midnight treat. Cutter and Brad started joking around and we forgot to be so quiet, and then... disaster! 

John and Eddie silently appeared at the bottom of the staircase, and the five of us froze. Jeff had been taking a bite, and he swallowed the ice cream and slowly lowered his spoon. John took us all in, but didn't say anything. Turning away from us, he opened the freezer door, asking, "Eddie? Would you like some ice cream?" 

"Why, sure," Eddie replied, looking from John to us, wondering as we were when he was going to say something. 

Cutter ate another spoonful, shrugging at me. I was holding my breath, wondering if John had noticed me, and if not, if I could run out the other door into the family room and up to bed. 

As he dished up two bowls of ice cream, John talked to Eddie. "Sure is nice knowing my family is all safe upstairs tucked into their beds." 

"Mhm," Eddie agreed, smiling a little at us. 

"Nearly midnight, where else would they be?" 

"Beats me," Eddie said. 

"If I saw them sneaking out of bed so late on a school night, say to get ice cream or something, I would be duty-bound to spank them all." 

Jeff started a little at that proclamation, but Cutter and James and Brad were all kind of grinning now. 

"Definitely," Eddie said. 

"So it's a good thing I don't see any of the boys. Besides, my foot would get cold if I had to take off a slipper to paddle them. Here you go," John handed a bowl to Eddie. They came to sit with us at the table. 

"How long do we have to pretend we aren't here?" Jeff whispered. 

John laughed and ruffled his hair, and I felt a huge sense of relief that we weren't in trouble. When everyone was done eating, John adopted his musing tone again, commenting to Eddie, "Well, we don't want any evidence of this here in the morning where the boys can see it, so let's do the dishes then go check on them." 

"I'm sure they'll all be tucked in their beds, sound asleep," Eddie said. 

"Oh, I'm sure they will be. Say, five minutes to wash the dishes, and if we find anyone out of their beds when we go up, they get spanked." 

"Sounds like a plan," Eddie agreed. 

We all jumped up, dumping our dishes in the sink where John and Eddie had started to wash up. Jeff and I were last, and as we turned to go to the stairs John pulled us back. I half-expected a swat, so when I felt myself in an embrace instead, I melted into him, seeing Jeff do the same. "Four minutes, kids," John said as he let us go, and we dashed off to bed.

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

Thanks for reading and leaving comments and kudos! 


	2. Bicentennial Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wades have just left Idaho following the death of their grandfather, and find themselves in Galveston on the 4th of July!

A story about the Wades, going back to the beginning of their life on the run. Carl may be the villain of the main series, but his life is also the tragedy of it. So here's a story of happier times, before his mind snapped and he changed. I hope you enjoy this glimpse of life when he could still show love for his brothers.

Ramsey 5, almost six  
Brad 9  
Carl 17

**July 4, 1976**

It was a hot, humid day in Texas, and no one paid attention to the blue Mustang approaching the Galveston Causeway from Texas City to Galveston Island. The driver, just-turned-17 year-old Carl Wade, drove slowly and carefully.

"Are we there yet?" chirped his youngest brother, Ramsey, a month shy of his sixth birthday. He had been asking that same question every few hours for the last few days. They had been on the longest road trip ever, and he wanted to be there already. He was tired of drawing and tired of strumming the violin held on his lap, and wanted to go outside and run around! 

"Almost," Carl said, with incredible patience. "I should have picked a better day," he mused to himself. "This is so crowded." 

"Wow, look at all the flags!" nine-year old Brad said, looking in awe at the 750 American flags lining the Causeway. He rolled down his window and the still air inside the car was replaced with the calls of seagulls and the salty scent of the Gulf. 

"Look at all the flags!" Ramsey echoed, rolling down his own window. 

Carl thought all the brightly flapping colors were a distraction, but he didn't want to ruin his brothers' fun so he kept quiet. He'd only been driving for a week, and though he'd been driving almost constantly for that week, he still didn't entirely feel comfortable yet. Most of their travels had been on back highways, not in bumper to bumper holiday traffic like this. He gripped the wheel a little tighter. 

"Beach! Beach! Beach!" Brad started chanting, and Ramsey soon joined in, drumming his feet on the seat. 

"We're almost there, then you can run around in the sand. Hang on!" Despite his anxiety over the traffic and crowds, Carl was just as excited as the little boys. He had never seen the ocean, never played in the sand. The last year and a half living with their grandfather had been horrible, but now it was over and they were free. Since leaving Idaho the week before, Carl had expected to be pulled over at any moment, but they hadn't. After days on the road driving in a general southerly direction he decided to head to the Gulf. He wanted to swim in the ocean. 

There was a steady line of traffic along the Causeway, and Carl stayed on the main road once on the island, too intimidated by the wall of cars to turn off anywhere. He didn't have a particular destination anyway, he was just driving until they hit water. 

"Look at all the big houses!" Brad said. 

"Mansions," Carl commented. 

"They're huge!" Every direction they looked they saw brightly colored mansions, most three storeys tall. 

"Which one is ours?" Ramsey asked seriously, and both his brothers laughed. 

"Silly Ramsey!" said Brad. 

"What? They're so pretty!" 

"Maybe someday we'll have a house like that," Carl said, "But for now we get to camp in our car!" 

"Yay!" Ramsey shouted. Camping in the car all week had been fun. Carl had gotten blankets, and he and Brad got to sleep in the backseat while their older brother slept in the front. They had draped the blankets from the dash to the rear window, supported by the seat, making a huge fort. 

Brad rolled his eyes, careful not to let either of his brothers see. At nine he wasn't quite so sold on this car camping stuff. The first few nights they'd been worried and upset over their grandfather and had just slept on the hard seats, then Carl got his act together and took a little money from the duffel bag and bought them a few clothes and blankets and other things they needed. But he was tired of riding in the car, and hoped they could get a real house soon. Or even a tent! He wanted to sleep on the ground. 

"Can we sleep on the beach?" he asked, suddenly excited again. 

"Maybe," Carl said. "You can help me look for signs okay? If it's not allowed, there'll be signs." 

"Okay," Brad said happily. 

"Look!" Ramsey suddenly shouted. "Let's go see!" 

It wasn't hard to see what caught the little boy's attention. Off to the left was a huge pink mansion decorated in red, white, and blue banners and ribbons. Picnic tables were set up all over the lawn, and kids were running everywhere. 

"They have food, and I'm hungry!" Brad said. 

"Okay, okay, let me find a place to park." Carl carefully parked on a side street, and checked to make sure his brothers were presentable. Ramsey had spilled Hi-C all over his t-shirt earlier, and Carl quickly changed him into something more or less clean. He knew they didn't really fit in with polite society, not anymore, but he didn't want anyone looking down on them. 

Locking the car, he took each of the little boys by a hand and walked back the two blocks to the pink mansion. They stopped in front of an elegant sign. "What's it say, Ramsey?" he asked. 

Ramsey cocked his head and sounded out the words. "Aaash-t-on House." 

"Ashton House, that's right." 

Ramsey beamed. Carl had been teaching him how to read, and he loved getting praise from his big brother. 

"Look, food!" Brad pulled Carl to the tables at the side, Ramsey trailing along. "Is it free?" he asked a woman who was serving cake. 

"It certainly is, help yourself!" 

All three boys got a piece of cake and a few cookies from a platter on the table, thanking the woman. Carl looked around at the other tables for anything not in the dessert food group. He wasn't going to stop his brothers from eating free food, but he hoped to find some 'real' food for them too. "Sit down on the lawn," he said, "I'll get us something to drink. Brad, watch Ramsey. Ramsey, stay put." 

His brothers sat cross-legged on the lawn in the middle of dozens of other families doing the same thing. Carl had seen a punch bowl at another table, and he got three cups of lemonade and brought them over. "Don't spill it," he cautioned his youngest brother. Ramsey spilled a lot. 

"I'll help him," Brad said. 

"I don't need help!" Ramsey protested, but didn't object when Brad put out a steadying hand to his cup as he lifted it to drink. 

"Be right back," Carl said. He made the rounds of the other tables, finding little square sandwiches, pretzels, and more cookies. He filled a cloth bag with as much as he could take without being obvious, then was excited to see a table with apples and oranges. He took three of each and made his way back to his brothers. Joining them on the lawn, he peeled an orange for Ramsey while Brad did his own. 

"What's with all the bells?" Brad asked, looking around at the other kids. A lot of them had little silver bells and were ringing them as they ran around. 

"I’m not sure," Carl replied. "I think they're selling them closer to the house." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know, but we can find out when we're done eating, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"I'm full!" Ramsey announced. 

"Eat the rest of your orange." 

"I don't want to." 

"It's good for you." 

"I don't care!" Ramsey said in a sing-song way. He stood up and danced a little. "I have to go!" 

"Hang on." Carl set down his own orange. 

"I'll take him," Brad offered. "I bet there are bathrooms in the house." 

"Okay. Straight there and back." 

"Okay." Brad took Ramsey by the hand and found bathrooms in the house. He lifted his brother up to wash his hands and face afterwards, then went back outside. 

"Looook!" Ramsey exclaimed, reaching down to pick up something in the grass. It was one of the little bells. The blonde little boy picked it up and gave it an experimental ring. "That's so pretty!" 

"It must belong to someone. Let's go check at the table." 

"But I want it!" Ramsey's face crumpled, threatening tears. 

"We might be able to keep it." Brad pulled his little brother to the nearby stand. Trying to distract him, he pointed at the letters on the banner. "What's that say?" 

"Li-ber-ty belllls," he said. 

"Good job!" Brad said, holding up his hand to give Ramsey a high five. Ramsey slapped his hand, happy again. 

"Can I help you, boys?" an older man in a red and white striped jacket behind the display of little bells asked with a smile. 

"Yes, sir," Brad said, summoning his bravery in front of his little brother. He didn't have much experience talking to strangers. "My brother found this on the lawn and we thought maybe someone lost it." He held up Ramsey's hand which was clutching the silver bell in a death grip. 

"I see. Someone probably did buy it, but there's no way to tell who. Why don't you boys keep it? There's a nationwide bell ringing ceremony at 1:00 today, that's in 20 minutes! People all across America will be ringing liberty bells at the same moment to celebrate our Bicentennial!" 

"Bi-sun..." Ramsey scrunched up his face in confusion. "What?" 

"Bi-cen-ten-nial," the man sounded out. "200 years since the birth of our country!" He smiled broadly, and his good humor was infectious. 

Ramsey still didn't understand, but he laughed. "I can keep it?" He rang the little bell. 

"You may." 

"Thanks!" both boys said before dashing back to Carl on the lawn. 

"Look! I got a bell!" Ramsey said, ringing it in Carl's face. 

"Neato," Carl said, catching the little boy's arm so he could look at the bell properly. "How'd you get it?" 

"It was in the grass. The man said he can keep it," Brad said. 

"Did you find out what they're for?" 

"Everyone's supposed to ring them at 1:00 to celebrate the... bicentennial," Brad said. 

Ramsey plopped down on his back in front of his brothers, holding the bell up with one hand, examining it in the sunlight. Etched on the side it said _1776-1976_. 1776 minus 1976? "What's one seven seven six minus one nine seven six?" he asked. 

"Minus 200. Where do you see that?" 

"On here." Ramsey showed him on the bell again. 

"Oh. That's not a math equation, it just means 'from 1776 to 1976'." 

"Ooh." 

"What would it be if the numbers were reversed? 1976 minus 1776?" 

"Those are big numbers," Ramsey said doubtfully. 

"Not so big. The numbers are the same except for the second number in each, the 9 and the 7. So you can ignore all the rest, and subtract 7 from 9. How much is that?" 

"Two." 

"And where are the 9 and the 7?" 

"What?" Ramsey cocked his head in confusion. 

Carl pulled out a black pen and wrote the numbers on one of the paper plates. "See? They're third from the end, where the hundreds go. So we take the two from 9 minus 7, and we know it's in the hundreds. So two hundred. Get it?" 

"I think so," Ramsey said, studying the plate. Brad, meanwhile, was laying on his stomach kicking his feet in the air, watching an ant carrying a huge cookie crumb, ignoring this impromptu math lesson. He preferred the impromptu history lessons, they were more like stories. 

"You ready to hit the beach?" Carl asked, gathering the remnants of their lunch into his bag. 

"We have to ring the bell first!" Ramsey said. 

"It's soon, can we wait? Please?" Brad asked. 

"Okay. Let's get some more food while we wait. You both go together. Hold his hand, Brad. Get as much as you can carry." 

"We can carry more if we don't hold hands." 

"Don't be smart. Just stay near each other, alright?" 

"Okay." Brad took Ramsey's hand anyway, and they made the rounds of picnic tables picking up lots of goodies. Carl meanwhile was doing the same, going back for more fresh fruit. They met back in the middle of the lawn, having just enough time to transfer all of the treats to Carl's bag before the Liberty Bell Ceremony began precisely at 1:00. 

A cacophony of sounds was unleashed all over Galveston: church bells, car horns, whistles, handbells, and Ramsey, ringing his little silver bell for all he was worth. After a minute he suddenly handed the bell to Brad. "You ring it!" he yelled, to be heard over the noise. Brad shook the bell and Ramsey continued to dance around, and Carl watched them both in amusement. It had been a long dry spell since they had been able to be so free and act so unabashedly like little boys, and it made him happy to see it. 

When the noise finally died down, Carl said, "Let's get more lemonade and go to the beach!" 

There was so much holiday traffic that Carl had to park several blocks from the beach, so he made sure they had everything they needed before setting out. He had a few dollars in his pocket for buying drinks later, and he brought the bag of food along. It was probably more than they could eat right away, but if he left it in the car it would spoil – it was a hot, humid day! Brad carried two blankets, and Ramsey carried several empty paper cups, all different sizes. Carl didn't want to waste money on beach toys, but thought the boys could use the cups to make sandcastles. 

Once at Stewart Beach they had to make their way past lots of sunbathers before finding a spot to dump their stuff. "Go find a couple of sticks so we can make a tent," Carl told Brad. While Brad looked for sticks in the dunes, Carl spread one blanket on the sand and placed their belongings on top of it. The sun was high overhead and hot, and he found himself wishing they all had hats. "Sit under this blanket til Brad gets back," Carl said, holding it up to provide shade. 

Ramsey obeyed, then pouted. "But it's hot!" 

"It's hotter in the sun." Carl took Ramsey's t-shirt off so he would be cooler. 

Ramsey started to crawl out. "I want to go in the ocean!" 

"Not yet. Wait til Brad gets back." His little brother looked mutinous, clear blue eyes glaring with five year-old intensity, a frown on his mouth, poised on hands and knees to make his escape. "Don't even try it," Carl warned. Ramsey fell back on his bottom, pouting, deciding if he wanted to cry. He wasn't given to crying or tantrums, but he was really unhappy at having to wait under that awful hot blanket when the ocean was glittering and tantalizing him to come play. Their standoff was interrupted by a heavyset woman who walked up and peered at Ramsey under the blanket tent. 

"Does that baby have sunscreen on?" She looked at the little boy, surprising both brothers by use of the term 'baby'. "Oh my, you need sunscreen. Did you forget yours?" 

"Um... yessum," Carl said, feeling very much put on the spot. 

"Well, that baby is going to get sunburned. Here, my husband bought two – he's always buying extras, he has no sense – you take this one and put some on that little one." She looked again at the little boy who was suddenly content to stay in the makeshift tent, away from this woman who kept calling him a baby. He wasn't a baby! He was almost six! "Come on out from there, and I'll put it on you," she said. 

Ramsey looked at Carl to see what he thought of this new development, and after a brief hesitation, Carl nodded. Ramsey crawled on out – no way was the woman going to be able to enter the tent – and she quickly and efficiently slathered sunscreen on him. "Now you go back in the shade for a few minutes and give it a chance to dry," she directed. 

"Thank you," Carl said, feeling stupid for not having thought of sunscreen at the beach on the 4th of July in Texas! 

"Turn around, honey, and I'll put some on your back and you can do the rest of yourself." She looked expectantly at the teenager, tube of sunscreen in one hand, the other hand messy with the goop from putting it on Ramsey. 

"Th-that's okay, I-I'm leaving my t-shirt on," he stuttered. He had scars on his back from the strap and didn't want anyone to see or ask questions. How could he explain? It was obvious what they were, but how to explain that he didn't need help? Not anymore, anyway. 

"No need to be shy." 

"Really, I'm okay." 

The kindly woman pressed the tube into his hand. "Keep this then. Put some on yourself, and refresh it on the baby every two or three hours, okay?" 

"I will, thank you." 

With a smile she returned to her own blanket and umbrella, and Carl started putting sunscreen on himself. Brad came back with two good-sized sticks, and helped Carl prop up one side of the top blanket to make a little tent. Ramsey was a lot happier with this new arrangement, because the air could circulate and it was a lot cooler. Carl applied sunscreen to Brad and made him wait until it was dry. Ramsey started to crawl out again, watching to see if Carl noticed. Carl did, of course, and smirked, crouching down and holding out his hands. His littlest brother ran over and Carl picked him up, then held a hand out for Brad. 

"Before we go down to the water, let's go over the rules." 

"Rules?" Brad grumped, while Ramsey just watched with big eyes, wanting to remember and get them right. 

"Yes, rules. Ramsey, you stay close to me or Brad at all times, and neither of you go in the water without me, okay?" Carl waited until his little brothers nodded. 

"There's lifeguards," Brad observed, pointing to the nearest station. 

"Yeah, but let's not give them a reason to have to save us, okay?" Carl asked with a slight grin, which his dark-haired little brother matched. 

With that, Carl set Ramsey down, and the three brothers ran down to the water. The next few hours were the best they'd had since their parents had died, and the best Ramsey could ever remember. They played in the water, dug in the sand for hermit crabs, and built a lopsided but many-turreted sandcastle. By late afternoon they were all wearing out. 

"Let's go back to our spot for awhile," Carl said to Brad, picking up his youngest brother. Ramsey tiredly laid his head on his brother's shoulder, and didn't complain when Carl laid him on the blanket for a nap. "I'll get us some drinks, stay with him til I get back, okay?" 

"Okay," Brad agreed. 

"Stay in the shade, and we'll put on more sunscreen when I get back." 

Carl walked along the beach nearer the road where vendors had set up their wares. He bought a small surprise for the boys, and a bottle of Coke for each of them. He'd rather have milk for his brothers, but that would spoil in the heat. Back at the tent he applied more sunscreen to Brad then Ramsey, then himself. They drank their Cokes and ate the rest of the food from the Ashton House, and Ramsey laid back down to sleep. Brad soon fell asleep too, and Carl arranged them so he could fit under the shade too. He thought about where to go and what to do next. They'd been on the run since leaving Idaho, and this was the first day they'd stopped. Galveston in July was rather hot; Carl didn't think he wanted to stay more than a few days. Heading north again would be smart, and he'd need to find a job soon. His grandfather had a stash of money under his mattress, and after the old man died, Carl had taken it. He was being careful with it, but it wouldn't last forever. 

After an hour or so the boys woke up and were thirsty again, so Carl took them back up to the road and bought lemonade. The sun started going down, and children all over the beach started lighting small fireworks. Ramsey and Brad watched in silent wonder, knowing not to ask for fireworks of their own. When they got back to their spot, however, Carl took out the box of sparklers that he had bought earlier, and the boys' eyes lit up. "For us?" Ramsey asked, clapping his hands and jumping up and down. 

"Yup!" Carl said with a grin. He knelt down and got a box of matches from his bag and let Brad hold the sparklers while he lit them. Brad ran around the beach with his while Ramsey stood transfixed, watching the sparks fly from his own. Carl stayed close to make sure Ramsey didn’t hold it too closely. They made the box of sparklers last for hours, until the big fireworks show started at dusk. When the sun went down they had dropped the top blanket from the sticks, and now sat back on the blankets to watch the show, Carl in the center with an arm around each younger boy. Neither of them liked the noise as the fireworks burst in the air and flinched back into Carl's side when particularly big ones went off, but they loved the bright colors and the patterns they made against the darkening sky. The fireworks lasted half an hour, accompanied by music playing from loudspeakers on the beach. As the fireworks drew to a close, the boys stayed on their blankets while all around them the crowd dispersed. Carl wanted to go back and sleep in the car, but he was afraid of losing his brothers in the crowd. 

"Do we get to sleep on the beach?" Brad asked. 

Carl looked around at the other small groups of people still on the beach. It looked like some of them had the same idea. He felt exposed on the beach, and worried for the safety of his brothers, but the celebratory Bicentennial spirit was about (and there were still police patrolling the beach), so he decided it was safe for one night. 

"Okay, just tonight," Carl agreed. 

"Yay!" Brad shouted. "This is the best day ever!" 

"Shhhh... Ramsey's falling asleep." Carl wrapped Ramsey in a blanket and held it open for Brad to climb in too. Then he laid down on the other side of his littlest brother to keep him safe between his older brothers. To lull his middle brother to sleep, he started talking in a quiet, soothing voice. "See that group of stars?" He pointed to the ones he meant. "Which constellation is that?" 

"Orion?" 

"Yes, good. And what about that one?" 

The brothers talked for a short time, until Brad at last fell asleep. Carl made sure his brothers were still tucked in, then drifted off to sleep himself, lulled by the sound of the lapping waves.

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

I've been to Galveston, but wasn't there on the Bicentennial, so I checked a newspaper online and found these events that actually happened on the island on that day:  
*Parade of Flags on the Causeway with 750 flags  
*Ashton House – had free refreshments (probably not as many as in my story!), and little Liberty Bells available for purchase for the...  
*National Liberty Bell ringing ceremony at 1 pm  
*Fireworks at dusk at Stewart Beach

I might eventually write about the event that changed Carl, but maybe not. It definitely isn't light and fluffy!

Thanks for reading!


	3. The "Cutter" Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1972... 12 year-old John just wants to escape his babysitting duties for an afternoon. The origin of Brian's nickname "Cutter". A not-so-fluffy interlude.

Most of the interludes will probably be fluffy, but not this one. John gets in trouble and experiences the belt for the first time. (Sort of) happy ending though!

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

The Lofton brothers in 1972: John 12, Eddie 8, Brian (aka Cutter) 4, James 3, Jeff 1

 

The oldest two Lofton brothers, twelve year-old John and eight year-old Eddie, got off the school bus and walked the quarter mile up the private road to their house. It was a warm, sunny day, a perfect day for riding bikes, and John was hoping he would have time to ride his bike over to his friend Ryan's house. John's shadow, aka four year-old Brian, was on the porch to greet them, as always. 

"Hi Brian!" Eddie called as they drew near the house. 

"Hi! Hurry up!" Brian was buzzing with energy. The little boy spent all day home with his mother and two little brothers, and the best part of the day was when his big brothers got home from school! He just thought his oldest brother liked playing with him; he didn't realize that he became John's responsibility when he got home. As soon as John got close enough, Brian took a running leap off the porch, landing on John, knocking him down. Eddie laughed at them, and went inside. 

"Hi Brian," John said, not too put out at the small, grinning bundle of energy now sitting on his chest, looking at him expectantly. It _was_ a daily occurrence, after all. 

"Hi Johnny! What are we doing today?" 

"You're staying on the porch while I mow the lawn," John replied, getting to his feet and dusting his clothes off. 

"Aww," Brian pouted. "Do you have to? I don't like when you mow the lawn." 

"Neither do I, but Dad said I have to do it today," John grumped. 

"I don't wanna stay on the porch." Brian wasn't allowed off the porch into the yard unless one of his older brothers was around to watch him, and he definitely wasn't allowed to wander around if John was using the lawn mower. 

"Maybe Eddie can play with you. Go ask him." The two went inside, John running upstairs to put his school books away, and Brian to find Eddie. 

John went down the back staircase, finding his mother, Susanna, and three year-old James and one year-old Jeff in the kitchen. "Hi Mom!" 

"Hi, how was school, honey?" She brushed a loose strand of her blonde hair back behind her ear. 

"It was good. I got an A on my history test!" 

"Good for you!" She poured two glasses of lemonade and carried them to the table where a plate of cookies was already sitting for their afternoon snack. 

John grabbed a cookie and sat at the table, swinging his legs. He was soon joined by Eddie and Brian, who plopped himself down on John's lap and got his own cookie. John shared his lemonade, loosely holding on to his active middle brother so he wouldn't go toppling off. 

"Can I go over to Ryan's house?" John asked. 

"Didn't your father say to mow the lawn?" 

"Yes, but after that?" 

Jeff started fussing, and James ran off to the family room. Their mother automatically picked up Jeff and started after James. 

"Mom?" John asked, following, carrying Brian on one hip. "Can I go to Ryan's house?" 

Susanna sighed, "Not today, John. I still have so much to do, and the boys are just into everything today. I'm sorry, but I need you here." 

"Okay, Mom." John knew it wouldn't do any good to pout, and he wasn't one to pout anyway. He had been looking after his brothers forever, and while he didn't usually mind, today he really wanted to go to Ryan's house. Ryan's parents had just gotten a color television set! The Loftons still had their black and white RCA, and their other friend Scott's family still had a black and white one. John was sure that watching a TV in color in their own living room would seem just like going to the movies! He could hardly wait! The next step would be convincing his own parents to trade in their perfectly good (according to them) TV for a color one. 

After making sure that Eddie was watching Brian, John went outside to quickly mow the lawn. Even though the property encompassed twelve acres, the fenced part around the house was much smaller, and not even all of that needed mowing. Some of the yard had a natural bed of pine needles and didn't need tending at all. John quickly mowed the sections in the front and back of the house, and the area under the new treehouse, then put the mower away. 

Upstairs he found Eddie and Brian playing in Eddie's room. "Come play!" Brian demanded. 

John did... for a little while. It was hard to concentrate on playing with plastic dinosaurs when he knew his friends were watching shows in color! When he heard his mother come upstairs to work on the laundry, John went out to the hallway. 

"Mom? Can I go to Ryan's? Please? I finished the lawn and the boys are playing quietly." 

"No, John, please stop asking. I still have to finish the laundry, then I need to get dinner started. Your father will be home soon." 

"Okay." His face hiding his disappointment, John trudged back to Eddie's room, annoyed at having to babysit all the time. 

"Eddie?" their mother called. "Can you please come help me sort the laundry?" 

"Okay, Mommy!" Eddie hopped up from the floor, his golden brown hair hanging down into his eyes, and ran down the hallway. Of course Eddie was happy to help, John thought sourly. He wasn't automatically saddled with Brian and other chores every day.

"Take this one!" Brian said, handing a stegosaurus to John. 

John started playing again, wishing he could go to Ryan's house. Maybe he could go now, and get back by dinnertime? No, it was already after 4:30, and it would take 15 minutes to walk there and 15 minutes back, and that would barely give him any time to watch before he had to get home. Home by six, that was the rule. Was getting to see Ryan's TV worth a spanking? It would probably be worse than the normal one, because it would be for shirking his babysitting duties too. And disobeying his Mom. Probably not worth it. His Dad would probably bring out the hairbrush for all that. John did NOT like the hairbrush, it made him cry every time. 

The phone rang. "Will you get that please, John?" his mother called from the laundry room. 

John dashed out of Eddie's room and down the stairs in order to grab the phone before the caller hung up. "Hello?" 

"Hi John, are you coming over?" It was Ryan. "Scott's here, and my sister's even letting us pick the channel. You gotta see it, color TV is the best ever!" 

"I can't, I have to babysit." 

"Even just for a few minutes? Get Eddie to watch Brian." All of John's friends knew of his Brian-duties. 

"I'll try. Bye!" John hung up and returned upstairs. He watched Brian for a minute then had an idea. His little brother was getting ready for kindergarten the next year, and in addition to the usual crayons, his mother had gotten him his own pair of child-friendly scissors. The little boy would happily spend hours cutting pictures out of magazines that were given to him, 'practicing for school'. "Hey, want to cut some things up?" 

Brian sat up, eyes happy. "Yes!" He was still only allowed to use them under supervision, and was excited whenever it was permitted. 

John grabbed the Sears catalog from downstairs and gave it to Brian along with the scissors. "I'm gonna go outside for just a few minutes, okay? Can you stay and play quietly until I get back?" 

Brian nodded, too happy at getting his scissors to be upset at John's leaving. "Okay, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, okay?" 

"I won't. Byeeee!" 

With the laundry room being at the end of the hallway near the stairs to the kitchen, John opted for the main staircase down to the family room to make his escape. Getting his bike from where it was leaned against the outside of the garage, he pedaled it down the private road then down the county road as fast as he could, determined to get to Ryan's and back before his dad got home or his mom noticed his absence. In the back of his mind he knew he was in for a spanking, but he reasoned that if he hurried maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

**..»º*º«..**

The color TV was glorious! John's friends were watching a rerun of _Get Smart_ , and it was amazing how much better it was in color. Then came a rerun of _Batman_ , and that was even more fantastic, how all the "POW's" and "BAM's" on the screen were so brightly colored. John forgot about his hurry to get home, only remembering when Ryan's older sister stuck her head in the den to say, "Dinnertime, doofus! Tell your stupid little friends to go home now!"

John was up and out the door like a shot. As he pedaled home he tried to figure out what time it was. _Get Smart_ was on at 5:00, and _Batman_ was at 5:30, and they had started watching _Gilligan's Island_ which came on at 6:00. Oh no... he was in so much trouble. He bicycled slower as he approached the house and saw his dad's new red Land Cruiser jeep (complete with the red and white gingham check curtains in the back windows that his mother had made – she insisted on them so the kids could nap in the back on outings). John put his bike away in the garage and slowly opened the door to the kitchen. 

A glance was all it took to let him know he was in deep trouble. Jeff and James were in their high chairs as normal (James was still relegated to one just to keep him from running off). Eddie sat in his usual place, trying to look inconspicuous. Brian sat on his booster seat, squirming, eyes red and tear tracks on his cheeks. Seeing his big brother enter the room he reached out with grabby hands. "Johnny-" he cried. 

John wanted to pick him up, but the anger in his father's eyes made him hesitate. Then he noticed his own plate was missing.

"Go wait in the study," his father ordered. 

"The study?" John asked, his own surprise echoed in his mother's face. On the few previous occasions he missed dinnertime his father had taken him to the family room and given him five or six swats, then allowed him to come eat. John knew he was in more trouble than that, but he was expecting to go to his room. He had never been directed to the study before. 

"You heard me. Go." 

"Yessir." John obeyed the confusing order, glad to escape the family's attention, even though he hated to leave with Brian crying after him. Crap, crap, crap. He went through the family room and on into the study. He slowly turned the doorknob, half expecting the door to be locked. The study was his father's, and he wasn't allowed in it. After looking at the massive desk with his father's leather swivel chair on one side and a much simpler chair on the other side, John chose to sit in the window seat to wait for his father to finish dinner and come in.

**..»º*º«..**

John was a nervous wreck by the time his father came, more than an hour later. Dinner had been over for some time. He had heard the sounds of his little brothers playing, and at one point the door opened and Brian slipped in and ran into John's arms.

"Hey, you okay?" John asked. Ever since seeing Brian at the table, he had been wondering what had made his little brother cry. He was normally a rough and tumble child, too busy to cry if he fell over and scraped his knee or anything. 

"Daddy spanked me," he said. The tears were gone, and apparently the hurt was gone because he sat on John's lap without any trouble, but the little boy was still clearly upset over the fact that it had happened. 

"How come? What did you do?" A dread came over John as he awaited the answer, knowing whatever had happened it likely was a result of his not watching the little boy. 

"I got tired of papers." 

"What papers?" 

"With my skissors." 

Oh no. "So what did you do?" 

"Cut somethin' else." Brian twisted to get down, ready to move on to the next thing. "Ima go play now!" 

John let his little brother leave, trying to imagine what he might have cut. What else was in Eddie's room? Eddie hadn't seemed upset, so probably nothing that belonged to him. After Brian's appearance, John didn't have to wait long to find out. He heard his father's heavier tread approaching, and felt a moment of panic and indecision. In his room he just waited patiently on his bed, but in the study everything was different. Should he stand? Stay seated? Maybe he should have sat in the chair in front of the desk.

The door opened and his father entered, a bunch of white material in one hand, his belt in the other. Russell crossed to the desk, placing the belt solidly down in the center of it, the white material behind it. John started at the thwack the belt made as it connected to the wood desktop. He had started to stand, but at the sight of the belt he dropped down again, so now he was perched awkwardly on the edge of the window seat. His father leaned against the desk, one leg crossed over the other, deceptively casual. His eyes were anything but, however. They held a fierceness that John had never seen before, and he didn't know how to approach it. 

"So, John. Tell me about this afternoon." 

John cringed. He hated having to tell how he had misbehaved. His dad always seemed to know it all anyway, and if he left anything out, it resulted in extra swats. "I wanted to go to Ryan's house after school," he said in a low voice. 

"And you asked your mother for permission?" 

"Yes, but she said no." 

"So you disobeyed your mother." 

"Yessir," the boy said faintly, trying to see the belt behind his father. He'd never been spanked with a belt before.

"Continue." 

"And... and... I mowed the lawn." 

"I saw that. Thank you." The barest hint of a smile in his father's eyes at this ploy for brownie points. 

"And I played with Eddie and Brian." 

"And then?" 

"Then Eddie got called to help with laundry, and Ryan called and said Scott was already over there. They just got a color TV, Dad! I just wanted to see it for a minute." 

"It ended up more than a minute, didn't it?" 

"Yessir." 

"So what did you do with Brian?" 

"Um... I gave him his scissors and the Sears catalog. I thought he could practice on the catalog?" 

"The catalog was fine, but you know he needs supervision when he uses his scissors. So, you gave him scissors, left him to himself, and ran off to Ryan's house." 

"I was only going to be gone a little while. And Mom was just down the hallway!" 

"But she didn't even know you were gone. She thought you were watching Brian. You know he's your responsibility after school." 

A flash of resentment crossed John's face. None of his friends were saddled with younger siblings to care for after school. Sure, they all had chores, but he was the only one with a four year-old hanging off him every moment while he did them, and then he had to watch him until his dad got home every night. Any play he did had to include Brian (and usually Eddie too). So not fair! 

"It's only two hours every afternoon, John." 

John glared at the bookcase across from him, knowing better than to actually turn such an angry look at his father. 

"You know your mother has had a hard time since Brian was born. She's been tired, and she needs your help." 

"Why have so many, if you can't take care of them?" John said angrily, dread and fear and resentment causing him to say something he never would have otherwise. 

His father froze, and John did too. "Which ones would you do without?" It was his father's turn to speak angrily. 

"N-none of them," the boy said. He truly did love all of his little brothers, especially Brian. Usually he felt a sense of pride at taking care of the little one all by himself; it was only sometimes like today when he wanted to do something else that he resented it. And Eddie who followed him around and hung on his every word, and little James and baby Jeff? He wouldn't give up any of them! "I d-didn't mean it, Dad. I'm sorry." 

"You're twelve. You're the oldest. I expect more from you. Your mother and I need more from you. I don't think it's asking too much for you to help out after school, do you?" 

"No, sir," John said, tears forming in his eyes. He really, really wished he could take back what he said. "I love Brian. I like taking care of him. Just not always." 

His father was quiet a moment. "I know you do. I know you love all of your brothers." 

John wanted a hug. He wanted to feel his dad's arms around him and know he was forgiven for what he had said, but he knew that wouldn't come until later. He gripped the edge of the cushion he was sitting on, unconsciously kneading it. 

"So, would you like to know what Brian did while you were off shirking your responsibilities?" 

John debated saying 'no'. He really didn't want to know. He gave a little nod. 

Russell reached behind him for the white material. He held it up and shook it, so its lengths unfolded. His wife's wedding dress. John had seen it before, hanging in the back of his mother's closet. It was constructed in 1958-style elegance, the bodice lace, the long skirt layers of chiffon. John didn't know the names of the materials or the parts of the dress, all he could focus on were the shreds all along the hem. 

"B-Brian did that?" he asked, dreading and knowing the answer. 

"Brian did that. You did that, by not watching him. Not only that, he apparently got hold of Mom's sewing scissors, because his own weren't sharp enough. He has become quite the little cutter." 

"I'm s-sorry, Dad." 

"You should be. Brian got spanked – not for the dress, he's too little to understand what he did – but for using scissors without supervision and for getting Mom's." At his son's distressed expression, John said, "Don't worry, he only got four swats. He's just a little guy. You aren't, however, and I expect more from you. I'm going to spank you with my belt for this. You disobeyed your mother, you shirked your responsibilities, and this-" he gestured towards the dress "-just goes to show what can happen when you don't take your responsibilities seriously. I'm disappointed in you, John." 

John was in tears again at the scolding. 

Russell went on. "As bad as this is, it could have been so much worse. At least Brian wasn't injured playing with the sharp scissors, and neither were his little brothers. I'm just grateful no one got hurt." With tears running down his son's face, Russell decided to get on with it. "Jeans and underwear down, then bend over the desk." 

"C-can I go to the bathroom first?" 

"Hurry." 

John fled upstairs, glad for the momentary reprieve. He could hear his mother in the kitchen and wanted to apologize but knew he had to face his punishment first. He finished in the bathroom quickly then slowly made his way back downstairs. Closing the study door behind him, he saw his father was holding the belt already, doubled in his right hand. The boy hesitated. His dad always took him over his knee – he didn't know how this was supposed to go, bending over the desk. He just knew it was going to hurt, a lot.

"Dad?" he started, then stopped, not knowing what he wanted to ask. Don't spank me? Don't use a belt? Don't make me bend over the desk? 

"Pants down and bend over," came the stern reply. 

John went closer to the desk and took down his jeans with trembling fingers, underwear following. He approached the huge desk and bent over it, placing his hands palm down, not really knowing what to do with them. Russell put a hand on his back and pressed him down lower until he was laying across the desk. The first swat was hard, harder than his father intended. It made a loud slap against John's bottom, and he yelped, "Oww!" He wanted to stand, but a hand still held him down, plus he knew that if he did that would earn him an extra swat at the end. The next swats were a lot lighter, but to John they sounded just as loud and hurt just as much as that first one. He started dancing a little by the fifth, lifting himself to his tiptoes, then settling down again. 

Russell had a longstanding practice of giving his sons a swat for every year of age, but as John sobbed and interjected a stuttered "s-sorry!" or "oww!" after each whack, he thought twelve with the belt would be too much. It was on the seventh after his son sobbed a broken "D-daddy!" that he stopped. John still called him Daddy sometimes, but hearing it spoken now in such a broken way his father knew he'd had enough. He put his belt on again, then gently guided his son up to a standing position and pulled his underwear up. John fell into his arms, sobbing for several minutes. His father comforted him, murmuring soft words, telling him it was okay, and he was forgiven now, and he knew he would be more responsible in the future. 

When he could finally speak again, John echoed his father's words, "I'll be more responsible, Daddy, I'll never complain about them again, and I'll never try to get out of babysitting again. I'm so sorry." 

"I expect you'll still complain from time to time. Just wait until you're old enough to date and you have little boys wanting to tag along. But I sincerely hope you won't shirk your responsibilities towards your brothers again." 

"I won't, Daddy. I promise." 

"Why don't you go put your pajamas on, then go see Mom." 

John shrank back at the thought. He still had to face his mother! 

"Go on, son, it'll be okay." Russell helped John step out of his jeans, then walked with him to the door of the study. 

John slowly, painfully walked through the family room. Brian was waiting, playing quietly with his blocks on the floor. When his big brother entered the room, he jumped up and grabbed him in a hug around his waist. John winced and picked the little one up. "Did Daddy spank you?" Brian asked. 

"Yup." 

"Cos I played with my skissors?" Brian looked worried at the thought of John getting in trouble because of him. 

"Nope. Cos... I was home late for dinner." That misdeed hadn't even come up in the talk with his dad. Surely the spanking he had already received covered that too? He wanted to cry again at the thought of another spanking on top of that one so soon. 

"You'll be okay, Johnny," Brian reassured him with four year-old seriousness. 

"I will, thanks, Brian." By now he had carried the little boy up to his room, and he tossed him gently on the bed, making the little one laugh. John put his pajamas on, then said, "I need to talk to Mom. Do you think you can watch TV for a few minutes until I'm done?" 

"Okay!" Brian ran off. 

John heard movement in his parents' room, and made his way there. His dad must have brought the dress up and disappeared already, because his mother had it spread out on the bed and was looking at it, holding up the hem and examining the seams. 

"Mom?" John asked at the doorway. 

"Come in, Johnny." Susanna held her hands out, and her son ran into her arms. Crying anew, John apologized for disobeying her and giving Brian the scissors, and not watching him like he was supposed to. Susanna sat on the edge of the bed. "Did you learn your lesson?" she asked, smoothing his hair back. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Thank you for your apology, honey. I forgive you." She wiped his tears away then turned halfway to look at the dress. 

"I'm so sorry about your dress, Mommy." 

"I think I can fix it, so no one will ever know. Well, unless they compare it to the wedding photos." 

"H-how?" 

"It's floor-length right now, but I can shorten it to tea-length. It will be just as pretty, and no one will be the wiser!"

**..»º*º«..**

Over the next week Susanna shortened her wedding dress, declaring it even prettier at the shorter tea length. Brian forgot about borrowing her scissors, hiding in the closet, and cutting the bottom of the dress. He only remembered that he wasn't supposed to use his scissors without permission. He still took every opportunity to practice, wanting to be all ready for kindergarten. Watching him, Russell referred to him fondly as "the little cutter" a few times, until Brian started mimicking it, calling himself "Cutter". And John...? John didn't care for the name one bit, and resolved never to use it. It was a horrible reminder of how he had slacked in his duties, and the awful spanking he had received. He did learn his lesson, however, and determined from that point on never to complain about looking after his little brothers, and never ditch them again. 

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

Thanks for reading! 


	4. The Too Thoughtful Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsey has a chat with John before he goes over his knee. They discuss spanking, but no actual spanking this interlude. All fluff!

Ramsey is 14 in this one, and already adopted by John.

**John**

Another day, another spanking for Ramsey. Sometimes I thought I spanked him too often, but they were all earned, and in most cases well-earned after multiple warnings and attempts to change his behavior. Eddie pointed out that Ramsey was catching up on a lifetime of learning how to behave so it was inevitable that he needed more correction for a while. We had tried or discussed other punishments, but they always seemed to create more problems than they solved. So spanking it was, at least for now.

Ramsey was upstairs in his room where I had ordered him to go and change into his pajamas and wait. That had only been about ten minutes ago – I didn't like to make him wait too long. Setting my mug of coffee down on the kitchen table, I headed up the back staircase to his room. I was almost there when I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a quiet but emphatic and surprised "Ow!" from Ramsey. 

I paused outside the door, wondering what happened. It sounded like someone had decided to get a headstart on Ramsey's spanking. Who? Eddie was downstairs, and Brad – I thought he was outside. He wouldn't spank his little brother anyway. I knocked once and opened the door. Ramsey was sitting cross-legged on the bed in his pajamas, his stuffed raccoon Racky on his lap as always. By now it was well-established that Racky's presence pre-punishment was mostly for effect in an effort to soften me up... but not entirely, so I allowed it. At least up until the point where I actually took him over my knees. Ramsey looked up at me as I entered the room, his bright blue eyes wide and guileless. 

"Whatcha up to, rugrat?" I asked. 

"Just... waiting," he replied, reddening a little, gently squeezing one of Racky's paws. 

I sat beside him on the bed for the usual 'Why are you getting spanked' discussion. Before I could start, however, he looked up at me and said, "John?" 

"Yes, rugrat?" 

"Does it hurt your hand when you spank me?" 

None of the boys had ever asked that before. "Do you think it does?" 

He rubbed at his thigh a little. "Probably. I wanted to see so I slapped my leg. But I couldn't tell if it hurt my leg or my hand more, it was just all jumbled together." Ah yes, Ramsey the experimenter, who had to try things out and experience them, even if they weren't all pleasant things. I hid my smile at this latest effort of his. 

"I imagine the discomfort in your hand and the pain in your leg _would_ get all confused." I put my arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into me. "I'd recommend not trying again." 

"So does your hand hurt a lot? Like, after the whole spanking is over?" 

"I wouldn't say a _lot_ , but I can definitely feel it. It stings." 

"Oh." Ramsey was playing with Racky's tail, something he often did when he was finding the right words to say something. "I'm sorry you have to get hurt just to punish me." 

"That's okay, you're worth it." 

"Yes, but... it's okay with me if you don't want to spank me." Ramsey looked up at me again, and I saw the glint in his eye. 

"That's very thoughtful of you, son." I let myself smile, just a little. 

"Thank you, Daddy." The imp grinned up at me. "You don't have to, like, ever again." 

"Oh, that would be too much of a sacrifice. I couldn't ask that of you." 

"No problem, I’m willing to make it. So you don't hurt your hand anymore, you know." I tickled him at that and he laughed and tried to get away. 

"Don't worry about my hand, rugrat," I said, pulling him into a side hug again. "If the pain gets too unbearable for me, I'll switch to my slipper."

"Awww!" 

"Now then, why am I about to hurt my hand spanking you?"


	5. The Fashion Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the extras closet came to be :)

**August, 1980  
John - just turned 20, Eddie 15 (month shy of 16), Brian "Cutter" 12, James 11, Jeff 9 **

If you haven't read the main story, the 'extras closet' is where all of the boys' hand-me-downs are kept until they fit the next in line.

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

"I’m not wearing that!" Twelve year-old Cutter pointed to the offending garment laid out on his bed next to a box of hand-me-downs that he had just carried down from the attic. 

"Just try it on, Brian," his mother said. "You need school clothes." 

"Yeah, just try it on!" James said, smirking at his older brother’s dismay, while nine year-old Jeff rolled on the floor laughing. 

"Boys, you aren’t helping," Susanna said with a sigh. 

Every August it was a logistical nightmare to get her younger boys ready for the new school year. With five sons the thought was that they could all wear hand-me-downs until they wore out, so the clothes were kept in boxes in the attic, labeled with the ages the boys had been when they wore them. The younger boys weren’t very fussy - give them jeans and t-shirts and they were good to go. This year, however, Cutter was starting 7th grade and suddenly put up a fuss at wearing his brothers' hand-me-downs. Sometimes it felt like he was the only one to wear hand-me-downs, because his clothes always came from boxes in the attic. It wasn't true, of course. He just didn't pay attention when Eddie opened boxes of John's old clothes, and the clothes for the younger boys just went directly from Cutter to James and from James to Jeff. But James and Jeff didn't have the sometimes unpleasant surprise of learning what was in the attic. It had been funny when this particular box was opened. All three boys had been laughing at this monstrosity sitting right on top, but then his mother wanted him to try it on! Suddenly he had gone from laughing at what used to be one of John's favorites to horror and embarrassment at the thought of wearing it himself. 

"Shut up, James," Cutter said, annoyed. "You’re getting it next!" 

"Don’t say ‘shut up’ to your brother," his mother said, so Cutter scowled at both younger boys instead. "Just try them on." 

"Mom, pleeeeease," Cutter begged, resorting to whining and a pleading look. 

"They're just jeans. John wore them when he was your age, and so did Eddie." 

Eddie wandered out of his room and poked his head in. "I remember those!" 

"Brian," his mother said. Her middle son had to get outfitted first so his clothes could move on down the line, and she was getting tired of his protests. 

"No!" 

Unfortunately for Cutter, his father was coming out of his parents' bedroom just in time to hear this defiance. Stopping in the doorway next to Eddie, he took in the situation at a glance; his wife's frustration, the merriment of the youngest two, the unhappy desperation of his middle son, and the likely source of the conflict laying on the bed. He eyed the clothes with some sympathy for his son, but first things first. 

"Do as your mother says," Russell said sternly, crossing his arms. His sons weren't allowed to defy their mother. 

Cutter looked around the room at all his family members seemingly gathered to watch him try on clothes. _How about some privacy?_ he thought. At least his younger brothers had ceased their laughter at the appearance of their father. Jeff was sitting back on his heels, looking between his parents and Cutter, trying to figure out if his brother was in trouble or not. James had scooted back on the bed... to give Cutter space, of course. His mother was somewhat exasperated still, and his father, well... he was a little harder to read, but Cutter knew if he didn't obey like, immediately, he would be sorry. Giving a put-upon sigh he said, "Yessir," and unbuttoned and unzipped his soon-to-be-inherited-by-James NICE pair of jeans. Leaving him with these monstrosities that used to be John's. Careful to keep his behind out of swatting range, Cutter reached for the faded blue jeans on the bed, pulling them closer. He gave one last imploring look at his parents, but they just waited patiently, so with a pout and a whimper, he stepped into them and pulled them up. He didn't even have them zipped up before James and Jeff were giggling again. No, make that howling with laughter. 

Stifling his own amusement, Russell turned to his wife. "Can they be... altered?" 

Susanna put her hand to her face to hide her own smile. "Not easily... not jeans." 

Cutter didn't know whether to cry in frustration, run out of the room to hide, or punch James and Jeff, but at that moment he felt ready to do any of those options. As he shifted his weight from one foot to the other in mortification, the door across the hall opened and John came out of his room, one of his chemistry textbooks in hand. 

"What's all the fuss?" he asked. 

"Look!" Jeff said, pointing at his older brother and collapsing in laughter again. 

Cutter looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the most hideous bell bottom jeans he had ever seen. Light blue but faded and so wide he thought he could fit both legs down one side. There was even white fringe on the sides! He wasn't preppy or anything, but the style had definitely changed since John wore them. "I'm not wearing these!" he exclaimed defiantly, shoving them down and off again. He didn't care that he was standing there in his underwear openly defying both of his parents. "I'll be a laughingstock at school!" 

"Oh... Brian." John smiled a little and said, "They were quite the thing in 1972, but you can't wear those." Turning to his parents he said, "He can't wear those. Really." 

"I suppose not," Susanna acquiesced. "It's only been four years since Eddie wore them, though. Maybe they could be worn around the house for yard work?" With five boys to provide for, she hated to get rid of anything before it was used up. 

"I think maybe Cutter could use a brand new pair of jeans," Russell said, winking at his son. "Let's go shopping this weekend." 

"What about the rest of it?" Susanna asked. "Have you looked through the whole box yet?" 

Cutter shuddered, wondering what other 1972 and 1976 fashion horrors the box held. Eddie noticed, and offered, "I'll look through it with you, Brian."

"Okay," Cutter said, knowing there must be a reason Eddie was offering, but not sure what it was.

Eddie continued, "And how about instead of putting the hand-me-downs in the attic we just keep them in the hall closet? We can all just get them whenever... they won't be such a surprise that way." 

Their parents looked at each other and shrugged. "Let's give it a try," Susanna said. "I'll move the linens out the hall closet if you boys will carry the other things down from the attic." 

"Sure," John said, setting his book down for later in order to help. 

Cutter put his old jeans back on, and the boys all headed for the attic. As they rounded the corner in the stairs, John leaned in to whisper in his younger brother's ear, "I think Eddie and I can help some of the more hideous things disappear." 

"Thanks!"

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

Susanna's really not clueless about fashion... she's just practical and thrifty!

Thanks for reading! :)


	6. The "But I'm in high school!" Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in 1983 (one year before Ramsey enters the story), with flashbacks to 1974 when John starts 9th grade. This one features John, Scott, Eddie, and James, who learn that being 14 and in high school doesn't equal being too old to spank!

This interlude (not fluffy but not terribly angsty) is based on a prompt from always_angel. Thank you for the idea and I hope it isn't totally awful, lol! :)

**September, 1983 (One year before the Loftons meet Ramsey)**

John Lofton, 23 and in his second year as a reference librarian, loved his job. The new school year had just begun and he had spent the day giving library tours and bibliographic instruction sessions to the incoming freshman English classes. His younger brother Eddie had shown up in one of the classes, smirking when John introduced himself as "Mr. Lofton". Eddie had raised his hand and asked several questions of the librarian, the sorts of things that might possibly be helpful for incoming freshmen to know, but which John knew his younger brother already knew and was just asking to be a pest. After the fourth such query, John narrowed his eyes slightly so that no one but his little brother would notice, and Eddie had finally quit, with a smile and a final, "Thank you, Mr. Lofton". Cheeky kid. Still, John got a kick out of it and loved that his brother showed up where he worked.

At the end of his workday John left the School of Mines & Technology Library and headed to the lot where he had parked his '74 Pinto, or the crapmobile, as he thought of it with absolutely no affection. Turning a corner of the building he saw a figure reclined on the hood of his little car. The figure was laying down on his back, arms crossed behind his head on the windshield, legs also crossed. It was hard to tell exactly which of his brothers it was because his face was hidden, but he knew it was too small to be Eddie. Probably too big to be Jeff, so James or Brian. When he got near he saw it was 14 year-old James. 

"Hey, James," John said, walking up and slapping the soles of his brother's crossed feet with a book. "Get off the car. What are you doing here?" His tone was friendly despite the order to get off the car. It was an effort for the younger kids to walk all the way from the high school to the college so John suspected there must be a good reason for James to be there. 

James sat up, shifting to sit cross-legged, still on the hood. "Hi, John!" he said, trying for cheerful, but not able to disguise the worry in his eyes. 

John unlocked the car door and snapped his fingers. James sighed and got off the hood. "Want to go to my place?" John asked.  
His little brother brightened. "Yeah, can I?" 

John drove them to the apartment where he had lived since finishing grad school and moving back to Jackson. It was a small studio apartment above medical offices on Main Street, sparsely furnished. John was saving up for a new (used) car to replace the crapmobile and then a wife, and then a house, in that order. He didn't care that his apartment didn't currently have enough furniture for his whole family when they came over or that it was mostly cast-offs, because he had more important plans for his salary. He had plans for his life now that he was done with grad school and working! 

James followed him upstairs and into the studio, feeling strange to be there alone with his oldest brother. The younger brothers usually came over with each other or their parents – not by themselves. He stood awkwardly in the kitchen, the little corner of the room that held a tiny fridge, sink, and cooktop, while John reached into the fridge for Cokes. John turned the TV to the news out of Rapid City and the brothers sat on the sofa. 

"So... what's up? Mom and Dad know where you are?" 

James dropped his gaze and pulled the tab on his can of soda. "No, they don't. I came from school." 

"Are you in trouble?" 

His little brother shrugged slightly, not meeting his eyes. "Maybe, I'm not sure." 

"What happened?" 

James started playing with his shoelace. "Nothing big. I was just messing around in chemistry and dropped a couple of beakers." 

"How'd you manage that? You were messing around all by yourself?" 

"No, with a couple of other guys. We were roughhousing. Not fighting!" he added, seeing his brother's eyes narrow. 

"Did you get in trouble at school?" That was usually the determining factor as to whether they would also get in trouble back at home. 

"I don't know. I mean, our teacher bawled us out and said it was going on our record, but I don't know if he called home." 

"Did you have to go to the office?" 

James shook his head. 

John smiled, relaxing a little. "I think you're safe then. Don't worry about your record, I'm pretty sure that's hogwash." 

"Yeah?" James asked, relieved. 

"Yup." John glanced at the clock. "It's almost six. Why don't you call home to let them know where you are. You don't want to get in trouble for being late." 

James looked up in surprise. "I'm in high school now." 

"I doubt the rule has changed." 

"Oh, Dad's not gonna be mad at me just for being late!" 

John chuckled. "Good luck with that. Have you not seen Brian get walloped?" 

James had, or at least he had been aware of his next-oldest brother getting punished. However, he had always held out hope that once he was in high school his father would deem him too old to spank. Because he was so much more sophisticated than Brian, of course, and didn't need to be on the receiving end of such methods. "But I'm in high school now!" he couldn't help whining, looking at John in consternation. 

It didn't seem all that long ago that John had uttered those same words...

**Monday, September 19th, 1974**

_"But I'm in high school now!" John whined, two seconds after his father had upended him over his lap placing his bottom in an embarrassing position, even more so since his best friend Scott was standing about 10 feet away. It wasn't the first time one of them had gotten spanked in front of the other, and on this occasion Scott had a feeling he was next. Scott waited to one side, instinctively holding still to blend in with the darkness inside the barn, trying to escape further notice. The day had started off so well, and now look!_

Life was turning out to be quite good for John Lofton. After turning 14 on August 2nd, he had gotten his driver's license and his parents sometimes let him drive the Impala when his mother didn't need it. Even better, he had just started 9th grade – high school at last! He felt practically grown-up. With his little brothers all still in grade school (or not even in school yet!), oceans separated their two worlds now. School had begun the previous week, and that morning he had begged his mother to be allowed to drive to school rather than ride his bike. After Susanna gave him permission, John picked his friend Scott up to give him a ride, and the two rolled into the high school parking lot like they owned it. 

"Should we go out for football?" Scott asked as they swaggered into the school. 

"Naw, they started practice like three weeks ago. Let's wait and go out for baseball in the spring." That had always been the plan anyway, fueled by years and years in Little League. 

All day the two friends strolled the hallways of the high school without any sense of freshman awkwardness, like they had been going to high school forever. A new world was opened to them, and they were going to take every opportunity that arose. At lunchtime they sat with the jocks, all the pretty girls just one table away, with lots of flirting between the two groups. Well, they sat with the same kids they had known from middle school who were also jocks, and of course they knew the girls since they'd been together since kindergarten. So they were just a bunch of 9th graders sitting together at lunchtime like they always had, but they were definitely the 'in' kids and they were in high school now, so they were definitely cool. Much, much cooler than they had been doing the same thing down at the middle school just months before. 

After school John drove carefully back to his house, Scott coming along to hang out. Brian was six by this point and in first grade, so he no longer spent all day waiting for his big brother to come home from school. No, now he just had to wait the short time between when he got home himself and when John did a few minutes later. He still waited on the porch, and John obligingly let the little one launch himself into his waiting arms. At least he usually wasn't bowled over any longer! The boys noisily went into the house, saying hi to everyone and getting snacks in the kitchen before going back outside. 

John and Scott spent the next hour alternately playing with or shooing away all the younger boys. To get away from the youngest ones (3 year-old Jeff and 5 year-old James – there was no escaping from Brian or Eddie), they finally got the bikes out and went down close to the barn where they had built a bike jump the day before. Eddie came along with his bike too, but Brian didn't have one yet. He was hoping for his first one for Christmas, but for now he made do with one of the two oversized Murray tricycles in the garage. He rode out with the older boys, taking the trike over the jump, which wasn't that high yet. John kept a close eye on him. Even though he let the 6 year-old do it, he didn't want to risk him getting hurt. He had been a lot more attentive to his brothers' safety the last couple of years. 

"Did you hear about Evel Knievel?" Eddie asked. 

John rolled his eyes. Of course they had all hear about Evil Knievel and his jump across the Snake River Canyon in a steam-powered rocket the day before. Or rather the failed attempt. 

"It was far out!" Eddie said, not needing encouragement to continue with the story. 

"You didn't even see it!" John said. 

"I don't care. I'm gonna be a daredevil like him when I grow up!" 

"Sure ya are," John said. Eddie was about as cautious as a kid could be. 

"I am. Just watch!" Eddie pedaled his bike over to the jump, but was going so slowly he barely achieved any air. It was more like 'slowly ride up the ramp, and fall off the other side'. 

John and Scott exchanged amused glances, but not wanting to hurt his feelings, John only said, "Awesome, man." 

Eddie grinned. "Let's make it higher!" 

"Wheeeeeeeeee!" Brian yelled, pedaling as fast as he could go off the ramp, sailing a few feet before landing with a thump. "Let's make it higher!" 

"Let's not," Scott said. Not having siblings of his own, he was occasionally protective of John's little brothers. 

"Aww," both Eddie and Brian said. 

Just then James came around the corner. "Johnny, Mommy said Daddy said you have to clean the tools and... and... something else today." 

"Later," John said, not wanting to end his fun. He still had maybe two and a half hours before the sun went down. Plenty of time to clean the garden tools and put the garden hose away for the fall and winter. His dad had reminded him at breakfast, but he couldn't be bothered to right now. 

"She said now," James said. "Can I ride?" he asked Brian, eyes shining at the prospect of riding over the jump. 

"No. Go get the other one. This one is mine!" Brian turned and went off the jump again, purposely yelling even louder to make it appear even more fun just to tease his little brother. 

James pouted and ran back towards the house. 

"That wasn't very nice," John admonished Brian. Never mind that not too long ago he was shooing James away too. 

"I don't care!" Brian sang, going back to the jump again. 

A few minutes later James reappeared on the second trike. "Mommy said to tell you now, before dinner!" 

John waved that off, sitting back on his bike to see if James was going to attempt the jump. The little boy drove a ways off and pedaled towards the jump as fast he could go while the older boys watched with some trepidation, hoping they weren't going to have to explain to any parents how he had gotten hurt. James made it, though, his jump more closely resembling Brian's than Eddie's. After landing the trike he circled back to the other boys, beaming at his success. "Let's make it higher!" 

"Nooo!" John and Scott both groaned. The boys all played awhile longer until the little boys started to wear out and went back to the house with the trikes. 

"What are we doing now?" Eddie asked, and John and Scott looked at each other. They wanted to do something grown-up, not something babyish with Eddie. They didn't know what exactly, but knew there must be better things to do than hang out with the 9 year-old. Sure, he'd be 10 in a week, but he was still a baby. On the other hand, John knew his parents had definite ideas about excluding any of the boys, especially Eddie since he was closest in age. 

"We're gonna check out the barn," John said, knowing that would be a likely way to send Eddie packing. Eddie tried to avoid getting in trouble, and going in the forbidden barn was one sure way to invite it. 

"Okay!" Eddie said, grinning, not fooled at all by his brother's attempt to make him go away. 

Scott glared at John. They didn't really want to go to the barn, but now they had to. 

"Up in the _loft_ ," John said, upping the ante. 

"Okay! Lead the way!" Eddie declared, challenging the older boys to carry through with it. 

Rats. Ditching the bikes, the boys went into the barn and up to the loft. The barn was creepy to begin with, large and old and dark, and who knew what kind of creatures lived in there. Owls? Mice? Cats? Probably just mice and rats, but they didn't go in there often enough to know. The sun was going down over the far hills, making the shadows more pronounced and eerie. John led the way to the back of the barn where the hayloft was. It was devoid of hay except for little bits scattered here and there. The ladder was rickety, and the loft itself had holes and loose boards, and the boys carefully made their way up. They sat on the edge swinging their feet, not wanting to venture further back. 

Scott started telling ghost stories in another effort to make Eddie leave. John joined in, though he was a little concerned at scaring Eddie too much (and probably getting in trouble for it!). Finally on the third story, Scott was saying, "And as they sat in the dark by the campfire, all was silent... then suddenly, footsteps! Clomp... clomp... clomp... it was getting closer!" 

Just then the boys heard real footsteps! Eddie shrieked and pulled his feet up into the loft with him, so any ghosts couldn't grab him from below. John and Scott gave each other dismayed looks, wondering if they were just hearing things. "It was getting-" Scott started to repeat, when suddenly the footsteps got louder and closer and yes, they were all too real. The two older boys unconsciously pulled their feet up into the loft too, watching to see who was coming. 

A tall figure appeared in the barn doorway, hands on hips. Mr. Lofton, and none too pleased going by the angry expression on his face. He snapped his fingers, and the three boys hurried down the ladder, hearts pounding at expecting a boogeyman and finding something both better and worse. "What are you doing in here? In the loft?" he demanded when all three stood before him. 

"Just playing," John said looking down, knowing that was one of the worst excuses ever. 

"Is that so?" Russell asked, pinning a sharp look on each of the boys in turn. 

"Yes, sir," Scott said bravely. 

"Yes, Daddy," Eddie said, hugging himself, regretting his decision to follow the older boys into the barn. 

"You know you aren't allowed in there. All of you," he added looking at Scott for confirmation. John's friend nodded, knowing it applied to him too. "It's dangerous, especially up in the loft. You boys are to stay out of it." 

"Yes, sir," John and Scott said. 

Eddie followed with a breathless, "Yes, Daddy." 

"We've been over this before. Maybe sterner measures are called for." Russell looked around the barn, eyes alighting on the wood chopping block just inside the door. He held out his hand to his younger son, and the boy let himself be pulled over. Russell sat down and drew Eddie over his knees. 

"Nonono!" Eddie whimpered. 

John and Scott looked helplessly at each other, feeling guilty and yet not guilty at the same time. They didn't want Eddie punished, but he had kind of pushed them into it. The older boys hung back as the younger one got spanked, nine swats over his jeans. Spankings were pretty rare for Eddie so he didn't have much experience at being stoic or much desire to try. No, he howled and cried and kicked his feet. Russell, on the other hand, had lots of experience at spanking boys (thanks to his oldest son), and was able to hang on firmly and finish the job. 

While the older boys waited John wondered how he was going to be punished. He was in high school now, that was much too old to be spanked. Even a trip to the study with the belt – surely that was over with too? Maybe he'd be grounded. He hadn't ever really been grounded before. What did that even mean? No TV? No radio? Stay in the house? How boring that would be, with no escape from all the little boys in the house! 

Scott also pondered his fate. He figured whatever happened to John would happen to him as well. The two friends (or 'partners in crime' as their dads sometimes referred to them) had often gotten into trouble together over the years, and it was fair game for any of their parents to punish them. A few months older than John, Scott had no thoughts of being too old to be spanked just because he was in high school now. No, his sheriff father had reminded him of that fact just the week before when he'd taken him over his knees for some infraction. He sighed. 

All too soon Eddie's spanking was over and his dad sat him on his lap for a hug and a cry. John was definitely too old for that, he thought, looking on from a distance. Fourteen was much too old to sit on his dad's lap for post-spanking comfort. Not that he had to worry about that anyway (he tried to convince himself), he was just going to be grounded or something. Still, he couldn't help worrying a little as Eddie was released to run off to the house. His dad stood and looked back at them. "Who's next?" 

John froze. Surely not. "Dad?" he asked uncertainly. 

Russell motioned him closer, and his son reluctantly crossed the barn floor. "I'm very disappointed in your choices today, son. On top of letting your brother and friend play in the barn and go up to the loft, you disobeyed your mother and I by not doing your chores." His dad reached for the belt around his waist and John backed up a step. 

"I'm in high school now!" he protested. 

"Yes, you are," his father confirmed, not very impressed with the fact. "You're old enough to remember to get your chores done and not make your mother send your brothers out to remind you. And you're old enough to remember where you're allowed to go and where you're forbidden." Russell snaked the belt out from the loops while John watched in dismay. 

"But I'm too old for that now!" John gestured at the belt which was now held, doubled, in his dad's right hand. 

"You think so, huh?" Russell asked, crossing his arms. "I'll let you know when you're too old." He contemplated his son for a moment, then tossed the belt to the side and sat back down on the chopping block. "Come here." 

"Dad..." John said, mortified at the thought of going over his dad's knees. 

Russell snapped his fingers, but his son still hesitated, looking over at Scott. Scott shrugged imperceptibly as if to say, 'what choice do we have?'. John forced himself to walk the two steps closer to his dad, stopping in front of him with a pout that would have done any 4 year-old proud. Russell quickly upended his son over his knees, prompting another muffled plea of, "But I'm in high school now!" 

"Act like a child, get spanked like one," his dad said quietly. "Scott, please wait outside. Don't go far, you're next." 

Scott nodded and hurried out of the barn, stopping just outside and leaning against the side to catch his breath. 

Once they were alone Russell stood John up and said, "Jeans down." 

"Daddy..." 

"One." 

With a slight huff at the injustice being done to him, John unzipped his jeans and dropped them slightly. His father pulled them down to the boy's knees then took his son over his lap again. Once in place he tugged his underwear down exposing his bottom. 

"Daddy," John protested again, squirming to get comfortable in that awkward position. 

"Hold still," Russell said, and starting spanking. 

Unlike Eddie, John tried to remain still and be quiet and not cry. As the heat built, however, it got harder and harder. The tears started first, appearing suddenly in his eyes and falling to the ground with the force of each swat on his bare bottom. The boy counted the swats in his head, and after the fourteenth came and went, the whimpers started, and then the squirming in a vain effort to escape the hard hand. Russell raised his right leg and placed half a dozen painful swats on the undercurve of his bottom. "Ow, ow, ow," John cried softly at each one. 

Finally it was over. Russell pulled John's underwear back up over his now scarlet behind and stood the crying boy up. The father drew his son into a hug, and somehow, he didn't even know when it happened, John found himself sitting on his dad's lap, encircled in his arms. "Shhh..." his dad said. "You're okay." 

John let himself be comforted, not embarrassed until a few minutes later when the tears slowed and he realized he was sitting on his father's lap in his underwear, his jeans pooled around his feet, his best friend just outside the barn hearing everything. "I'm sorry," he said, standing up. 

Russell reached down to pull John's jeans up, but let his son fasten them. "You're in high school now, but you're still my child. I still expect you to obey your mother and I and set a good example for your brothers." 

John nodded, ashamed of his behavior earlier. "I will. I'm sorry." 

His dad smiled, and brushed a straggling tear away from his son's cheek. "And don't be in such a hurry to grow up. Plenty of time to be grown-up later. Just enjoy being 14 for now." 

John wanted to say he'd enjoy being 14 more if it didn't still include spankings, but his butt hurt too much to risk it, and his dad was still in his nice, comforting mode. So he nodded and said, "I will." 

"Okay, trade places with Scott." 

The two boys traded places, and it was John's turn to lean against the side of the barn, grateful for the cool air. It made him want to drop his jeans again to let the cool evening breeze soothe his behind, but he didn't. Scott's spanking was faster than his had been. Not as many swats and from the sound of it his friend got to keep his pants on. He was only getting it for going up in the loft, not for neglecting his chores, so John supposed that made sense. After a few minutes his dad came out of the barn, his arm around Scott's shoulders. His friend was looking down, eyes wet. 

"Scott's going to stay for dinner," Russell said, glancing at his watch. "And if we all pitch in we can take care of those tools before it's ready."

**September, 1983**

"Dad's not going to care that you're in high school," John said, remembering that day long ago when his dad had impressed that upon his behind. "He'll still spank you if he thinks you need it."

James frowned a little. 

"So will I, for that matter," John said, flashing a smile at his little brother. He'd only occasionally spanked his little brothers, for the most part when they were younger. 

"Jooohn," James said, not comforted by that last statement. 

John laughed. "Call home so they don't worry. Tell them I'll feed you and bring you home later, okay?" 

"Okay." James phoned home and was relieved when he wasn't immediately scolded for any phone calls from the school. 

"See?" John said, ruffling his hair as he walked past to look through the cupboard to see what they could eat. "Permanent records are hogwash. You're fine." 

James grinned, relieved. "Thanks, John. What's for supper?" 

The brothers dined on a small frozen pizza, then spent the evening watching TV and playing cards. About 8:30 John said, "Ready to go home?" 

"Yeah, I guess." 

John drove James home, giving him advice along the way. "Tell them about today." 

"I'll get in trouble!" 

"Not if you say it just got out of hand, and it was an accident, and you'll never act up in class like that again." 

"Hmmm... " James kicked at the floorboards, thinking of the odds of getting in trouble if he followed John's advice. 

"Mom and Dad will respect that a lot more than if you try to hide it." 

"Okay. Will you come in with me?" 

"Sure. As if I could drop by the house without stopping in. Mom would kill me!" John said, laughing. 

John parked the crapmobile in the driveway and walked his little brother into the house.

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

Wow, John sure matured a lot in 10 years :)

Please let me know if you have ideas for the interludes - something in the past of the Wades or Loftons. A few of you have given me suggestions for the main story line, and I'm still working those into the plot line of Parts IV and V, and thanks for those too!

Thank you for reading!


	7. The Camping Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John remembers a long-ago camping trip...

This story starts in summer of 1985, with the boys their present ages. During the flashback to 1977, their ages are as follows:  
Jeff 6  
James 8  
Cutter/Brian 9  
Eddie 12  
John 16 

Ramsey 6  
Brad 10  
Carl 17 – two weeks before his birthday

**A Saturday Afternoon, Summer, 1985**

"Have you seen Ramsey?" John asked, coming down the stairs. John planned to take the boy to the college to buy the textbook for his next math course, but now couldn't find him.

Eddie and Jeff were watching TV in the family room and looked up at the question. "I think he's outside with Brad," Eddie offered while his younger brother just shrugged, attention firmly on the old black and white horror movie. 

John went out the front door and stood a moment on the porch, scanning the front yard and fields for Ramsey and Brad. It was a warm summer day and the sun was high in the sky, adding a bright shine and a layer of heat to everything. No sign of the boys, though. Sticking to the shade of the porch John walked around to the back of the house, noticing peeling paint on the railing. Painting would be a good family project, one that everyone would probably like. And make a nice mess with. Maybe they could tackle that later in the week. Once at the back of the house John again surveyed the property. No sign of the kids, but in the quiet of the early afternoon he thought he heard their voices carried by the slight breeze. John followed the sound to the edge of the sledding hill. He stood at the top of the hill looking over the edge and saw two figures down by the creek. He could have called for them, but decided the short walk would be nice. 

Ramsey and Brad were kneeling by the side of the stream, very interested in something at the edge of the water. As John walked up, the sunlight reflected off the boys' hair, turning Ramsey's almost white blonde hair into a richer, deeper, shining gold. Brad's turned from normal everyday medium brown to a burnished bronze. John felt a twinge of... remembrance at the sight. "Hi guys," he said, drawing near, wondering why he suddenly felt so unsettled. 

The two boys turned towards each other to look back at John, eyes alight with happiness. Ramsey held up a hand showing off a small turtle. "Can we keep it?" he asked. And with those words, John was suddenly transported back eight years.

**Tie Hack Campground, Bighorn National Forest, Wyoming, June 12, 1977**

"Jeff? Do you want to help me fix lunch or help Daddy put up the tent?" Susanna Lofton asked. After driving half the day the family had arrived at their campground in Wyoming. Her husband and the older boys were tackling the two tents while she was starting on lunch for her hungry crew. Six year-old Jeff looked at the loaf of bread and sandwich-makings on the picnic table, then over to where the guys were.

"Tent," he announced firmly. The little boy snagged two Oreos from the open package on the table before scampering over to the tent staging area. 

The Loftons had two tents. A great big gray canvas one that in actuality could fit all seven of them, and a smaller tent for John and Eddie which had been purchased two years before to give the older boys their own space. John, Eddie, and Cutter were putting the smaller one up while their father enlisted the younger boys to assist him. 

"Here, hold this end up, Eddie," John directed. "Brian, can you hand me one of the poles?" 

"I can do it," Cutter replied, stepping forward with one of the white poles. He carefully threaded it through the loops, then started on the next. "I bet this tent would fit three people," he commented, trying not to appear like he was wanting to join the older boys in their tent. 

"I bet it would," John agreed, exchanging grins with Eddie. "Think Jeff would want to share with us?" 

"Can I?" Jeff asked, jumping up and down at the idea. 

"Or Jeff and James both," Eddie said. "I bet there's room!" 

"Don't tease your brothers," their father said. "Jeff, James, you're in the big tent." 

"Come on, guys! I'll be quiet. Can I stay in your tent?" Cutter pleaded, dropping the pretense of trying to play it cool. 

"It's up to Dad," John said, shrugging. "Ask him." 

"Can I, Dad? Please, Daddy?" Cutter asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

"If your brothers say it's okay," Russell replied with a grin. 

"Daaaad!" Cutter protested at having the matter tossed back to his brothers. 

John decided to put his brother out of his misery. "You can stay with us." 

"Alright!" 

"We'll put you by the flap to protect us from bears." 

"Yeah, scare them off before they reach us, okay?" Eddie asked. 

"Bears?!" Jeff asked, looking around in alarm. 

"John! Eddie!" their dad said sharply. 

"Just little bears," John said, laughing. 

"Yeah, just cubs!" Eddie added. 

Even though he knew they were joking, Cutter wanted to show he was game and said, "I'll keep the axe under my sleeping bag!" 

"No, you won't," Russell said. 

"Awww." 

"Let's hurry and finish, boys," their father said. "I'm famished!" 

After lunch Russell and the boys went down to the nearby lake while Susanna finished settling the camp. Russell and John set up the fishing rods and let the boys have at it. James walked out to the end of a tree that had fallen into the lake so that he could cast into the deeper water. The only problem with that turned out to be all the submerged tree limbs that caught his line with every cast. "John!" James called every time his line snagged, and his oldest brother dutifully set down his own rod, made his way out the tree, cut the line, tied on a new lure, and got out of the way again before James cast. 

After the third time, however, he said, "Just cut the line and come back to the bank." 

"I wanna fish out here!" 

"You're just wasting lures out there. Come on in." 

James pouted. "I don't have a knife." He tugged on the rod to show that it was still tied up. 

"Hang on." John freed the line again but didn't tie on a new lure until they were both back on the shore. 

Jeff quickly got bored standing around waiting for a fish to bite, and dropped his rod to go play. Taking off his shoes and socks, he went into the water looking for tadpoles and was soon splashing around. 

"Stop it. You're going to scare the fish away!" James protested. 

Jeff stopped. From the expressions on his dad's and older brothers' faces, he figured James must be right. "But I want to catch tadpoles!" 

"Go down the bank a little," Eddie suggested. 

Jeff pouted. He wanted to be near everyone, plus he knew he wasn't allowed in the water by himself. 

"I'll go with you," Cutter offered, surprising everyone. He handed his fishing rod to John and took his little brother by the hand, and they went down the bank a little ways. The two boys stopped at an area with reeds. "Here, this will be perfect for finding tadpoles."

Jeff let go his hand and splashed into the water, scaring any and all wildlife away. "You have to creep up on them if you want to catch any," Cutter advised. 

"I don't care, I just want to splash around!" 

"But look, there's lots of tadpoles over there!" Cutter pointed about 8 feet away, and at the sight of so many so close, Jeff went still. The two boys crouched in the water stalking the tiny creatures.

**..»º*º«..**

Mid-afternoon Susanna left the camp and walked down to the lake to join her family. The men of the house had already caught a nice string of fish. She oohed and aahed over them and said she wanted to join in the next day. She and Russell had a long-standing agreement. She would happily cook any and all fish brought home to her... as long as they were cleaned and ready to fry. She would also happily catch fish (she found it as fun as the rest of her family)… but no way was she cleaning them. Russell enjoyed providing for his family, and catching fish was a more immediate way of doing that than bringing home a paycheck, so he absolutely didn't mind cleaning all the fish. Well, teaching the boys how to clean them while he supervised.

"Want to walk around the lake a bit?" her husband asked, reeling in his line. 

"Sure!" The two walked off hand in hand. 

John watched them go. He liked that his parents were still so much in love; he hoped to have that himself someday. Knowing he was in charge at the moment, he reeled in his own line. 

"Think we have enough fish, guys?" John asked. Eddie nodded, and even James said he was ready to stop a while. "James, why don't you gather up all the equipment, and Eddie and I can start cleaning the fish." 

They all set to work, and before long the fish were cleaned and there was a nice pile of fishing rods next to the tackle box and the almost empty package of Oreos. "Can you guys start carrying stuff back to our campsite? I'm gonna get Brian and Jeff." 

John and his dad had both kept an eye on the two boys from a distance, and he knew they were still down the bank a little ways near the reeds. While Eddie and James loaded up to make the first trip back to the campsite, John headed to the reeds. The sun was still high in the sky but passing clouds made the sunshine hit or miss. As he approached his brothers, he saw four boys instead of two. The four were crouched by the side of the water, knees in the mud, attention fixed on something in the water. Suddenly the cloud passed and the boys were hit with the full sunshine. Three dark heads and one golden blonde one, hair all shining from the bright sun. The boys all turned to face John, eyes excited at their find. Hands cupped to hold his treasure, Jeff asked, "Can we keep them?" 

John went close to inspect what his brother held. Two tadpoles swimming in the tiny little bit of water in Jeff's hands. "I think they'll be happier in the lake," he said. 

"They'll be happy with me!" Jeff promised. "I'll make them a nice home." 

"Sorry, Jeff," John said, running his hand through his youngest brother's hair. "They may not survive if you keep them out of the lake. Don't you want them to grow up into nice frogs?" 

Jeff pouted, but dutifully let the tadpoles return to the water. John looked at the other boys. "Hi guys," he said. 

"Hi," they bashfully said back, eyes wide at the attention. The little blonde one looked about Jeff's age, and his brother might have been a little older than Brian. Both were skinny and dirty with dirty clothes. The dirty clothes were to be expected out camping John supposed. Just look at Jeff and Brian after an afternoon of wading and playing in the mud. 

"We're going back to the campsite now," John told his brothers. 

"I want to play with my friends!" Jeff said. 

John didn't know if Jeff meant the tadpoles or the other boys, but decided to go with the other boys. "You guys camping here too?" 

They both nodded, and the little one's eyes darted over to a campsite not too far away. It was on the edge of the campground, and John saw a tarp extending from an open car door to the ground creating a makeshift shelter. 

"You want to come over to our campsite awhile and play with my brothers?" 

The blonde little boy looked at his older brother, who looked wistful but finally shook his head. "No, we should get back. We have lessons soon." 

"Lessons?" Cutter asked. "It's summer!" 

"We have them all the time," the dark haired boy replied. He held out his hand to his little brother, who took it. 

"Bye!" said the little one looking over his shoulder and waving as he was pulled away. 

"Come over later if you can!" Cutter called after them.

**..»º*º«..**

That evening after dinner the Loftons were sitting around the campfire singing songs and roasting marshmallows. Jeff was sitting on John's lap, half-ready to fall asleep. They heard a slight rustling in the bushes and looked up to see the same two boys from the lake.

"Hey, there's your friends," John said, rousing Jeff. 

"Hi!" Cutter called. "Come roast marshmallows!" 

"Come on in, boys," Susanna said warmly, holding an arm out to welcome the two kids. Her sons had told her about their new friends. The two warily approached the campfire, sitting closely side by side on one of the log seats. "Would you like to roast marshmallows with us?" 

The little one nodded, while the older one said, "Yessum." 

Susanna smiled, and Eddie grabbed two sticks with whittled ends and handed one to each boy. Cutter handed them the bag of marshmallows, and they each solemnly took one. "Just stick it on the end," he explained. "And then keep turning it so it doesn't burn or fall off."

Susanna and Russell could tell the boys were uneasy, and set out to put them at their ease. Russell started telling stories about when he was a little boy and soon all the kids were laughing and chatting. The two new additions to the camp circle were quiet still, taking everything in, but after a short time they smiled and relaxed. They roasted their marshmallows to a crispy golden brown and took forever eating them, savoring every bit. Susanna took note of their unkempt appearance. Even in the darkness she saw the dried mud on their clothes and noticed how ill-fitting and ragged they were. Well, they were camping clothes. Her own sons were wearing a motley mixture of hand-me-down play clothes that didn't matter if they got ruined. It was more the general sense of being unwashed and uncared for that made her take notice. The little boys didn't say much and just gave short answers to questions. Susanna learned that they were camping with their brother, and their parents were... not here. They were a bit vague about their parents which made Susanna a little uneasy. She sensed they were hiding something, but didn't want to make them any more uncomfortable than they already were. 

As the night wore down the younger boys all started getting sleepy. "We should go home," the older brown-haired boy said. He pulled on his younger brother's arm. "Thank you," he said, and the little one echoed his words. 

"John, why don't you walk them back?" his mother asked. 

John was a little surprised at the request – the two kids didn't have very far to walk – but he stood up and got a flashlight to light the way back for the boys. They kept to the campground's one lane dirt road and were at the other campsite in no time. There was a teenager about John's own age reading by the light of a battery-operated lantern. He looked up when the party drew close. 

"Hi," John said. "Found these two tadpoles down by the lake. Want to keep them?" he joked. 

The older boy grinned. "Yeah, I'll keep them. I thought they were just out for a walk. Did they bother you?" 

"No, not at all. They just came to our campfire awhile." John looked around. His parents (primarily his mother) had set up camp at their own site. A camp stove near the picnic table, an Igloo with water, a clothesline set up, already put to work drying the clothes Jeff and Cutter had worn to the lake. Their camp site looked lived in. Just a quick glance at this other site revealed none of that. There was a car with the tarp over part of it so they could sleep in it with the door open and keep dry. The campfire was dark and there wasn't any food set out or in sight at all. Maybe it was in the car's trunk to keep it safe from the wildlife John thought. "You should come back with them tomorrow," he offered. "We'll probably roast marshmallows every night." 

"Thanks," the teen said. The youngest boy stood in front of his brother, who took him in his arms protectively. "We might do that." Running his hands over the little boy's arms to warm him up, he said, "You boys ready for bed?" 

John returned to his family's campsite and found his brothers were already snuggled into their sleeping bags in the two tents. He briefly described the other campsite to his parents, then went off to bed himself, where he read by flashlight until he fell asleep. 

"Don't often see kids camping without their parents," Susanna said when she and her husband were alone by the dying campfire. "Not that young, anyway." 

"No," Russell agreed. "Let's go check on them in the morning." 

"They can join us for breakfast," Susanna said, smiling at the thought. She loved her large family, and truth be told had wanted even more children. If not for health concerns, they would have tried for more. Mealtimes were always a favorite time of day for her, all of her men gathered together enjoying the food and each other's company. She loved her sons while they were still little, but was also looking forward to when they grew up and came home to gather around the table with their own families. They would have to get a bigger table! 

The two adults snuggled by the fire talking in low voices until late, then Russell put out the campfire, and they went to bed.

**..»º*º«..**

In the morning Susanna and Russell walked over to the other boys' camp site, and found it empty. From John's description it wouldn't have taken long for them to break camp. Just take down the tarp and... there wasn't much else to do. All trace of the three boys and their car was gone. Susanna gave her husband a sad smile at the lost opportunity to help the kids. Maybe they didn't need actual help and were just camping like they said, and were now on their way home to their parents. But something had seemed off, and the boys had seemed a little... feral and hesitant and wistful, and she wanted to be sure they were okay. Russell squeezed her hand and they returned to their own sons.

**Back to the Saturday Afternoon, Summer, 1985**

Ramsey and Brad turned towards each other to look back at John, eyes alight with happiness. Ramsey held up a hand showing off a small turtle. "Can we keep it?" he asked.

The way the boys knelt by the water's edge, their hair shining in the sunlight, the grins on their faces, it brought it all back. John hadn't thought about the two kids they'd met camping in the longest time. They always met other kids and played with them on their family vacations, and John didn't remember _any_ of them, why would he remember those particular two? Ramsey and Brad couldn't be the same boys from so long ago, could they? It would be too much of a coincidence. There was no way. 

John smiled and crouched down next to the boys. "I bet it would be a lot happier back in the creek. Don't you want it to grow up into a nice big turtle?" 

At the words there was a flicker of confusion on Ramsey's face, but he quickly shrugged it off. "Maybe. But I love turtles. Can I have one?" 

"Maybe. But not this one. This one is used to living free. If you really want one we can see if the pet shop has one, okay?" 

"Okay." Ramsey set the turtle carefully down next to the creek, and they watched as it started to waddle away. 

"Let's get your math book, shall we?" John asked, standing up. 

"Okay!" Ramsey took off for the house. Probably to put on his good clothes for the trip to the campus store John thought with a smile. 

John and Brad followed more slowly. "Did you guys ever go camping in Wyoming?" John asked. 

"Probably. We stayed in a lot of campgrounds growing up. It all blends together." 

John didn't know if he wanted to pursue the subject. Brad would have been 10 or 11 back then, and Ramsey only about 6. He never knew whether memories from the past were good ones or sad ones for the boys; better to let them think of it on their own, and remember. If it was even them. John put his arm around Brad's shoulder, and they walked up to the house. Sure enough, Ramsey was impatiently waiting by the jeep dressed in his good clothes.

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

I liked this one and I hope you did too! I don't always like stories with huge coincidences that stretch belief, but I got to thinking about the years with the Wades growing up. There must have been lots of missed opportunities for help; people who thought something was a little off, and took an interest in them but were prevented from pursuing it for one reason or another. A lot of 'what ifs'. So even if the Wades weren't the little boys the Loftons met so long ago, I still like thinking that Susanna and Russell would have helped.

Thanks for reading!


	8. The Hungry Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wades, 1980. Brad takes care of Ramsey while trying to figure out the new changes in Carl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a fluffy interlude! There's probably not a single fluffy thing happening in this one (except for maybe Brad trying to take care of Ramsey). 
> 
> Warning tag for this chapter - child abuse. I tried not to make it graphic because I don't really like writing about it, but it's there. This started off as a 'day in the life' of the Wades, but evolved into this (whatever this is!).

**February 1980, any town, they were all the same**

**Carl 20, Brad 13, Ramsey 9**

Brad Wade sensed he was being followed. The 13 year-old was on a "shopping trip", getting much needed supplies for himself and his brothers. His older brother Carl, 20 now, had a job bussing tables for a restaurant that only served breakfast and lunch. Carl had changed a lot in the last year; Brad didn't know what happened, but he no longer allowed the boys out of the house (or apartment, or tent, or vicinity of the Mustang) without him. Brad and 9 year-old Ramsey had obeyed, of course, just as they always obeyed their older brother. The problem was, money was always short and when Carl had some left after paying the meagre rent on their dingy run-down apartment, he usually spent it on things like foreign language dictionaries and French novels, rather than on practical things like food.

Last week Brad had tried talking to him and even dared arguing with him, pointing out the empty cupboards. It had not ended well...

**..»º*º«..**

The week before...

"There's no food left, Ramsey's hungry. Please go shopping, Carl!" 

Ramsey sat quietly on a blanket on the floor paging through a German text pretending not to listen to his brothers argue, not complaining even though his stomach rumbled with hunger. He didn't know why Brad specified that _he_ was hungry – he knew they both were! 

"It's none of your concern!" Carl had shouted, fed up with the arguing. "I earn the money, and I decide how to spend it!" 

Brad bristled with anger. His brother was acting so irrationally! Couldn't he see they needed food more than stupid books? "There's nothing left!" he shouted back, recoiling at the sudden hard slap he was given. 

"Just shut up about it," Carl said, angry but in seeming disbelief and regret that he had struck his brother like that. Since taking on responsibility for his brothers he had sometimes spanked them. Not over his knees, but grabbing on to an arm and turning them, he would dish out hard whacks to their behinds until they cried and gave in to whatever demand he was making. He hadn't struck them in the face, however, at least not until now. Angry at Brad for forcing him to take this action, Carl went into the apartment's single bedroom slamming the door behind him. 

Brad held his hand to his cheek staring after Carl in angry defeat. Ramsey got to his feet and ran to his brother. "Are you okay?" he whispered anxiously, darting a fearful glance at the bedroom door. 

Brad smiled and attempted to laugh it off. "Sure, didn't hurt much. Let's check again, alright?" 

"I already checked and checked and checked," Ramsey whined even while allowing Brad to pull him over to the tiny kitchenette. 

"Let's check again." 

The two boys searched the kitchen but there was absolutely nothing edible to be found. Some silverware, a few plastic plates, and a half-empty bottle of dish soap, that was all that remained from the previous tenants. Ramsey's stomach growled again, and he slapped a hand to his tummy in embarrassment. "I'm not really hungry," he said apologetically. "It just does that sometimes." 

Brad looked at the little boy. His brother was 9 but skinny and small for his age. He looked about 7. Eyes bright with intelligence, but over the last year or two Brad noticed he was acquiring a feral, hungry look. Blonde hair long and shaggy and dirty. Ramsey was dirty all over, actually. The apartment was dirty and empty of furnishings, so both younger boys had become accustomed to sitting on blankets on the floor during the day and sleeping on them at night. Not the most conducive living arrangements for keeping clean. And now the little boy stood before him, barefoot in a torn t-shirt, holding up too-big jeans with one hand, worried eyes on Brad, insisting that he wasn't hungry even though they hadn't eaten since the previous day. Brad had had enough! 

"I'm gonna go out for a little bit," he said. "You stay here." 

"You can't!" Ramsey said, repeating the words in a whisper when Brad motioned for him to be quiet. 

"I have to. I'm gonna find some food. It's all fine for him," he added, jerking his head towards the bedroom. "I bet he gets to eat at the diner. But we're starving." 

"I'm not starving," Ramsey protested, more willing to go hungry than have his brother get in trouble. "Please don't go out." 

"You go take a shower and I'll be back by the time you're done, okay?" 

With a nervous glance at the closed bedroom door, the little boy asked, "What do I tell him?" 

"Nothing. You were in the shower and didn't know I left, okay?" 

Ramsey bit his lip. "Okay," he reluctantly said. 

Brad smiled encouragingly and gave Ramsey a little push towards the bathroom. Suddenly remembering they didn't have any soap or shampoo, Brad grabbed the liquid dish soap from the kitchen and gave it to Ramsey. "Careful not to get it in your eyes." 

Brad waited until his brother disappeared before quietly leaving the apartment. Once outside, he walked closely to the edge of the building so Carl wouldn't see him if he happened to be looking out the window, then at the end of the block he quickly turned the corner. His heart was racing; he had never so openly defied Carl before. He was sure to earn a spanking for it, but it had to be done. Making his way to the nearest market, he wandered the aisles wondering what to get. He thought he stuck out like a sore thumb being in there all by himself and was sure that all eyes were on him. In the end he followed a mother with four children, hoping that by trailing 15 feet behind them people would just think he was a moody teen not happy about being dragged to the store. He grabbed a jar of peanut butter and another one of applesauce, carrying them nonchalantly even though his heart was pounding. The family turned into the next aisle putting them close to the exit, and Brad lost his nerve. He ran out of the store, ignoring someone's call to come back. Brad zigzagged his way home, but no one was following him anyway. He maintained his death grip on the two jars as he ascended the staircase to their apartment. The adrenaline rush faded and he was left shaky and weak. He stopped to lean against the wall in the hallway to catch his breath and gain his courage before unlocking the door and entering their set of rooms. 

Ramsey was clean-ish and reading a book on the floor again, hair wet, and the door to the bedroom was still closed. Brad sighed with relief and said, "Look what I got!" Ramsey joined him in the kitchen and started jumping when he saw the food. 

"Wait, get spoons," Brad ordered. Ramsey's hands were no longer grubby, but his brother still didn't want him eating with his hands. Especially not licking said hands clean and reaching into the jars again! 

Ramsey quickly retrieved spoons and the boys dug in, gulping down glasses of water at the same time to help wash down the peanut butter. 

"Next time I'll try to get bread," Brad said, furrowing his brow as he thought how to accomplish stealing something so bulky. The jars had been bad enough. 

"Thanks, Brad," Ramsey said, licking his fingers, still having managed to get them messy. The look of adoration he gave his brother filled Brad's heart and made all the stress of his adventure worth it. 

Then the door to the bedroom opened and Carl came out to see what all the noise was. He instantly spied the open, half-empty jars. "Where'd those come from?" 

"I- I went out and got them," Brad said defiantly. 

"Without me?!" Carl's voice rose. 

"I'm 13! I can walk to the store and back by myself!" 

"Not by yourself you can't!" 

Brad refrained from pointing out that he obviously could, since he had. No sense in making Carl angrier than he already seemed to be. 

"Did you talk to anyone while you were out?" 

"What?" What an odd question. 

Carl took a step closer and grabbed his younger brother by the arm. "Did you talk to anyone? Did anyone try to talk to you?" 

Brad unsuccessfully tried to shrug his way out of Carl's grip. "No, I didn't!" 

Carl gave him a shake. "Are you sure?" 

"Yesss!" Brad whined. He had expected his brother to be angry about him leaving without permission, but this was more of a frantic worry. 

"Did anyone follow you?" 

"No! Carl, you're hurting me." He tried pulling away again, and this time Carl let him go. 

"How'd you pay for it?" 

"I didn't." 

Carl's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything about the theft. His concern was his brother's leaving the room. "You know better than to go out without me," he reiterated. He scolded Brad for several minutes about the dangers of going out and how he knew better and at least he hadn't brought Ramsey too. 

Brad remained silent, trying to retain his brave façade in the midst of this unusually frenzied verbal attack. Ramsey, meanwhile, had retreated to a corner of the kitchen where he was sitting cross-legged, the peanut butter jar between his legs. He tried to distract himself from listening to his older brothers by slowly dipping one finger into the jar then licking it clean. He didn't remember the last time he had tasted anything so good. 

The scolding came to an end and Carl took a deep breath to calm down. "Drop them," he suddenly ordered his middle brother. Brad had been expecting this and shoved his jeans down, standing awkwardly until his brother tucked him under his arm and spanked him. It wasn't overly harsh, just Carl's hand over his underwear, but several swats in the boy started to cry. His brother gave him several more, harder, then stopped. "You stay home unless I'm with you," he ordered. "It isn't safe out there." 

Carl looked over at Ramsey, who had sympathy tears in his eyes. The little one always cried when Brad got punished. "You either." 

"I won't," Ramsey promised. He absently dipped a finger in the peanut butter jar again while Brad rubbed his behind and tried to stop crying. 

Carl looked between his brothers, then at the jars. "I'll get some bread, next time I'm out." He went back to the bedroom closing the door behind him. 

Ramsey got up and offered the peanut butter to Brad, who tearfully shook his head. Ramsey put the lid on both jars and pushed them to the back of the counter. "Thank you," he whispered. "Come read with me?" 

Brad didn't want to read, but he let the little boy lead him over to their pile of blankets on the floor. He laid on his stomach and listened as Ramsey read aloud. 

Several hours later, in the late afternoon, the bedroom door banged open, startling the young brothers. Carl didn't like loud noisy things, and banging the door open qualified as that, so they were surprised he would do so. Eyes flashing with anger, Carl snarled, "Come here." 

With a scared glance at each other, both younger boys stood up and started forward. 

"Not you," Carl said to Ramsey. "Get in here, Brad." 

Brad obeyed, wondering what was happening. He hadn't done anything wrong other than going out, and he'd already been spanked for that. Carl kept such a close eye on his brothers, they rarely had the chance to get up to any actual mischief anyway. As soon as he was close enough, Carl reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him into the room, slamming the door behind them. 

Ramsey stood looking at the closed door, afraid to go in after them, but transfixed by the shouting he heard from the other room. Carl sometimes got mad at them, but he had never yelled at them like that before. Then after a brief silence a new sound came to his ears. A loud thwacking sound, followed by a gasp and cry from Brad. The sound repeated itself again and again amidst more scolding, and Brad's cries grew louder and turned to shrieks. Ramsey, of course, worked out that his brother was on the receiving end of something harsh, but he didn't know what he was being hit with. Tears in his eyes, he silently walked towards the bedroom door and held his hand out for the knob. He wanted to know what was happening, but he was also terrified. The voice scolding his brother didn't even sound like Carl, there was a drawl to it that he hadn't heard before. Ramsey stood there uncertainly, trying to gather the courage to go in, but he couldn't make himself do it. 

The whacking sounds stopped and as a heavy step approached the bedroom door from the other side, Ramsey scampered back to the blanket in the main room. He picked up a book and pretended to be reading as Carl stomped out of the bedroom, through the apartment, and out the door, locking it behind him again. Ramsey sat frozen for about twenty seconds, but as the footsteps out in the corridor faded, he jumped up and ran into the bedroom. Brad was laying on his stomach on the floor, sobbing, jeans up but unfastened. Ramsey had never seen him so upset, and knelt down beside him. 

"Are you okay?" Ramsey asked softly, tears running down his own cheeks. "Did Carl spank you again?" 

Brad bit back a sarcastic reply, merely saying, "Yeah." Even in the midst of the worst pain he'd ever felt, he didn't want to hurt his little brother. Besides, he could hardly believe Carl had done it. _Had_ Carl done it? Brad wasn't so sure. Carl didn't sound like Carl when he yelled at him for going out. His voice had an accent and there was an anger and a coldness in his older brother's eyes that he hadn't seen before. And when Carl removed his belt, Brad had pleaded with him, "You already spanked me, Carl, please don't again!" 

Carl gave a harsh laugh. "Carl? I'm not Carl." 

"What? Carl?" What was this? Some awful joke? 

"I'm Ellis. I don't think Carl impressed on you the need to obey him as adequately as he should have. I'm here to help." Carl-Ellis snapped the belt. "Drop 'em," he ordered with a cruel sneer on his face. 

_Ellis?_ Brad was totally confused, but hurried to obey after an encouraging lick from the belt hit his legs. What followed was horrible. Carl had never punished him with his belt before, and the pain was excruciating. Carl- Ellis(?) hadn't listened to his pleas to stop, just continued mercilessly. When he left, Brad collapsed on the floor, quickly and painfully pulling his pants up when he heard Ramsey on his way in, not wanting him to see. He had to stop crying so Ramsey wouldn't know it hurt as much as it did. He didn't regret going out for food, and didn't want Ramsey to feel bad for it. 

"I'm gonna take a shower," he said, and pulled himself to his feet, biting back whimpers. 

"What did he spank you with?" 

Brad just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his pain, but Ramsey looked so worried and afraid. "His belt," he said, and saw his little brother's eyes grow big. 

"Why did he do that?" Ramsey asked. "He already spanked you before." 

Brad didn't know. He wasn't going to mention Ellis, not yet, not until he figured out what was happening. "He just wanted to be sure I understood how important it was not to go out without permission. You remember that too, okay?" 

Ramsey nodded, determined not to get in trouble. "Did it hurt a lot?" 

Brad considered saying no, but thought better of it. "Yeah, so you really need to do what he says, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Once in the bathroom Brad kicked off his clothes and got into the shower. Away from his younger brother he allowed himself to cry. He took a long shower and thought about Carl. Ellis. He didn't understand. Was Carl pretending to be someone else? Ellis wouldn't hurt Ramsey too, would he? Ramsey was much too little to be whipped with a belt, Brad would have to make sure that didn't happen. Carl had told Brad to look after Ramsey years ago, a charge Brad always took seriously. Now he had to protect his younger brother from his older one? That was a disturbing thought. Brad took a series of shuddering breaths, holding each one longer and longer until he finally managed to stop crying. He had to hide how hurt he really was, he didn't want Ramsey to worry. 

As Brad dried off, Ramsey appeared at the bathroom door with clean clothes. "Here, Brad," the little boy said. 

"Thanks, kid," Brad said, eliciting a small but worried smile from Ramsey. He dressed carefully so Ramsey wouldn't see the welts that he had noticed in the mirror. 

"Do you want some applesauce?" 

Not really, but they had to finish it so it wouldn't go bad. "Okay." 

Ramsey ran off to get the jar and a spoon and was waiting with them when Brad emerged from the bathroom. After finishing off the applesauce, Brad laid down and asked Ramsey to read to him, just to distract them both. 

It was dark when their oldest brother returned. The younger boys watched warily as he entered the apartment, grocery bag in hand. "Hey, guys," Carl said cheerily, setting the grocery bag on the counter. "I got some bread and apples and stuff. Come see."

Ramsey jumped up to investigate, but Brad followed more slowly. 

"What's wrong?" Carl asked with a laugh. "You're walking around like an old man." 

Seriously? Did his older brother not remember what had happened in the bedroom? Or did he think Brad was just going to shrug off the pain? 

"It hurts," he said quietly. 

"You mean earlier? That was hardly anything. I've spanked you harder than that before." 

It seemed Carl really didn't remember! The first spanking of the day had made him cry, but Carl was right, Brad had been punished harder than that before. But the second one... 

"Ellis?" Brad asked speculatively. 

"What?" Carl asked, pausing as he opened the bag with the loaf of bread in it. "Ellis?" He looked genuinely confused. 

"Nothing," Brad said. "Can we make sandwiches now?" He forced a smile for Ramsey's benefit. 

"Oh, honey!" Ramsey said, finding treasure at the bottom of the bag. Carl made them all honey sandwiches, and for the first time in days, all three brothers were stuffed. 

Brad ate and forced himself to sit on the floor with his brothers afterwards to spend the rest of the evening reading. He was a mess of pain and conflicted feelings. He had gone out and gotten food, at great personal sacrifice(!), then Carl had just waltzed in with a whole bagful of groceries. Why didn't he just go get some earlier when Brad asked him to? The still-lingering fire in his rear end could have been avoided if he just had. All of Brad's efforts seemed stupid and tawdry and unnecessary by comparison. And the whole Ellis business. He didn't know what to make of that. This would take some thought.

**..»º*º«..**

A week later...

Brad sensed he was being followed. He hadn't been out of the apartment building since his shoplifting trip the week before and life had returned to normal, meaning that Brad and Ramsey stayed in the apartment with nothing to do but complete the lessons Carl left for them. Brad had been bored out of his mind, but his behind had ached for a few days so he had been on his best behavior. But they ran out of food the night before, and when Brad cautiously told his older brother about it, Carl had just muttered that he was out of money and didn't get paid until the next week. Well, then. Brad would just have to take care of it. He had resolved never to let Ramsey get that hungry again. 

Making sure Ramsey was occupied with his violin, Brad slipped out while Carl was still at work. The whole way to the store, however, he had the most awful feeling that he was being followed. Surely Carl hadn't come home mid-shift – he never did. Did Ramsey follow him? He doubted it. Brad had clearly told his little brother to stay home, and Ramsey was much more obedient than he was. Still, he ducked into a shop for a minute to see if anyone was following him until he decided it was just a guilty imagination making him think someone was after him. 

Brad didn't return to the same store, but another one further away. He had a whole week to think and plan ahead, and this time came prepared. He wore a too-big shirt tucked into his jeans so he could stuff it with things, and carried a backpack draped over one shoulder. He left it unzipped part way with a book displayed so anyone would think he was on his way to school. Or at lunch? Morning break? He didn't really know when schools had their break times. Recess, it was called recess. Except he was older so he was probably too old for recess. Forget all that, he wouldn't need a cover story if he didn't get caught! He made his way through the aisles of the larger store, following another family around and pilfering things when he could. This time he forced himself to remain calm, even to the point of hanging back while the family paid for their groceries and following them out to the parking lot. Once outside he dashed back home. 

Ramsey opened the door to his special knock. "What did you get?" Ramsey asked excitedly as his brother started pulling small items out of pockets and backpack. 

"I couldn't get too much because I didn't want to get caught." Soon the counter displayed several cans of soup, more peanut butter, more applesauce, a loaf of bread, and a box of granola bars. 

"Wow, Brad, this is wonderful! What are we gonna have first?" 

"How about sandwiches?" Brad quickly made them both sandwiches, peanut butter with applesauce so they wouldn't have to choke them down. Ramsey wrinkled his nose slightly at the combination, but after the first taste he devoured his. "Here, let's hide these," Brad said, picking up the granola bars. 

"How come?" 

"So we'll have something left after everything else is gone." 

Ramsey shrugged. Why hide food from Carl? That didn't make any sense, but he always did what Brad wanted. Most of the time. "Okay." They put the box at the back of an empty drawer, then Brad put the rest of the groceries away in a cupboard. 

The two worked more on their lessons for a while, then when Brad was completely bored and noticed even Ramsey was fidgeting, he grabbed the spare apartment key (which they were forbidden to use except in the case of emergency) and said, "Let's race!"

Ramsey jumped up and the two of them peeked out of the doorway to make sure the coast was clear, then they dashed out the door and down to the next floor where they spent a very energetic 15 minutes running up and down the hallway. In the last year of increasing confinement, Brad had discovered that sneaking out to run around was the easiest way to keep himself and Ramsey from going stir-crazy. He had convinced Ramsey it wasn't truly disobeying Carl, because they weren't leaving the building at all. Still, better not to mention it. 

Ramsey wasn't dumb. He knew they were misbehaving, but he didn't understand why they weren't allowed out in the first place, and it wasn't so very wrong, and of course he never mentioned it. The boys rotated floors for their activity because occasionally some old nag would open a door and yell at them for making a racket, and they didn't want to be identified. Brad chased Ramsey around the L shaped building, knowing it wasn't really a fair race. He had four years on the younger boy, plus Ramsey kept tripping on his jeans. After the second time Brad halted the fun and rolled up the legs. "Okay, go!" When both kids were panting and laughing and worn out, they made their way back up to their own apartment where they collapsed on the blankets again (after carefully replacing the spare key). 

Ramsey napped after that while his brother tidied up. Brad was a nervous wreck by the time they heard the key sliding in the lock – he was sure he was going to get in trouble again when Carl saw the new food. He only hoped and prayed that he wasn't called to the back room by that Ellis person again. After a lot of thought he had concluded that Ellis was different from Carl just like another person, so he was going to think of him that way. Plus he didn't want to think Carl would be so mean to him all on his own, so for his own sense of self-worth, he had to separate the two. 

"Hi guys," Carl said, kicking off his shoes. 

"Hi!" Ramsey said, happy at having his tummy full and his big brother home. "Want to hear what I can do?" 

"Sure," Carl said. It was relatively early in the day, and he was more agreeable to noise then. It was mostly later in the day and in the evenings that he had been starting to tell his brothers to keep it down. 

Ramsey carefully took his violin from its case and played a new song. "That sounds great!" Carl said. "Where did you hear that song?" 

"Radio next door. I didn't go out!" Ramsey declared, worried that Carl might think he had and spank him with his belt too! 

Carl laughed. "I didn't think you did." 

Ramsey sighed in relief, then happened to glance at Brad, who had frozen near the kitchenette. Suddenly realizing he might be getting Brad in trouble by putting the thought of going outside into their oldest brother's head, Ramsey jumped up and put his violin back in the case. "Can we go over my lessons now?" he asked to provide a distraction. 

"Sure, get it ready." Carl wandered over to the kitchenette and got a glass of water, opening one of the cupboards absent-mindedly hoping food would appear. And... it did. He frowned. "I thought we ate it all." 

Ramsey looked to see if Brad would explain, but Brad looked panicked. "No, there was more," Ramsey slowly lied. 

"Huh." Carl didn't remember buying half of the stuff, but his mind had been all over the place lately, and he thought maybe he was blacking out sometimes. So maybe he had bought it then? Or had Brad gone out again? He looked over at his younger brother, who was now energetically wiping down the counter. He shrugged. "Everyone want soup?" 

Later, after soup and lesson-checking and lesson-assigning for the next day, Carl settled on the blankets with his back against the wall and asked, "Who wants a story?" 

Ramsey immediately plopped down on his oldest brother's lap while Brad sat right beside him. Carl put an arm around each brother pulling them close. "Okay, this is the story of Æthelred the Unready. He was a king back in England a thousand years ago, and guess why he was called the Unready?" 

Carl told the story of the English king and his conflicts with the Vikings and his little brothers listened with rapt attention. This was their favorite time of their day, snuggling together for story time. The long days of confinement and the boring sameness of every day faded away as they listened to Carl tell a story from history. He always made it exciting, setting the scene and painting word pictures so the boys could practically see the action in front of them, ensuring that they would remember what happened for a long time. As the story ended, Carl tapped Ramsey's leg signaling him to stand up. 

"Can we have another story?" Ramsey asked, pouting because he knew Carl was going to disappear again. 

"No, I have some writing to do so I'll be in the other room. You guys stay quiet, alright?" 

Carl left, closing the door behind him, and Brad and Ramsey looked at each other. Now the truly quiet time of the day began. They played a few games of chess, a few games of checkers, squabbled a bit only to fall silent at hearing footsteps in the other room, then finally laid down on their blankets to read themselves to sleep. The next day, they would wake up and do it all over again.

**..»º*º«....»º*º«....»º*º«..**

Up next - back to the main story, where I am halfway done with the first chapter for July :)

Thanks for reading!


	9. The 'New Normal' Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month following the death of their parents, John flounders while the Lofton brothers try to find a new normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for lonelywriterboy :)

One year before the main story. Ages: John 23, Eddie 19, Brian 15, James 14, Jeff 12

**Finding a New Normal  
Friday, January 6th, 1984 **

"I don't know if I can do this," John said into the phone. "Everything's going wrong and it's just, I don't know, harder than I expected. The boys aren't acting like themselves and I don't know what to do." He knew he sounded whiny and he hated that fact, but life felt out of control and he knew his aunt and uncle wouldn't hold it against him.

"You're all still grieving," Aunt Mary replied. 

"I _know_ ," John said, a tad sharper than he intended. Into the silence on the other end he quickly said, "Sorry." 

"You're still grieving," his aunt repeated, continuing, "The boys have a lot to get used to. The loss of their parents, having you home again. And everyone grieves in their own way." 

"It's going to take some time for you all to find a new normal," Uncle Joss said. "Just keep your eyes open and look at what's working, and what's not working, and adjust accordingly." 

"I guess," John said dispiritedly, thinking of his younger brothers. It had been almost a month since their parents took their new Cutlass Ciera to town on a snowy Friday night never to return. He was grieving and he knew all four of his younger brothers were grieving too. He expected that. He hadn't expected each of his brothers to manifest their sorrow in such completely different ways. John thought there would be tears and sadness, and there was, in spades, but there were other things as well. 

Jeff had become a disobedient brat and it seemed like every few days John found himself turning his youngest brother over his knee to paddle him. He hated doing it, but he also hated constantly nagging the boy to get him to do anything but zone out in front of the TV. 

James was becoming a ghost. In the few weeks before Christmas vacation he had found reasons to stay in town later and later after school every day, and when vacation began he still was often just- gone. Off in town or wandering around their property by himself, and if he was at home, he was holed up in his room with the door closed. 

Eddie, a college freshman, was listless. With his parents' deaths occurring so soon before finals, his professors had told him to take what time he needed. John didn't know if his brother had gotten around to actually studying any more or if he had just gone in and taken them cold, but by the end of Christmas vacation Eddie had managed to finish his finals. John didn't think he had registered for the new semester yet, and it was starting the following Monday. John knew that dropping out of college to wander around the house in a fog wasn't good for him. 

The real puzzle was Brian. Fun-loving, wise-cracking Brian had changed the most. He had lost his spark. One time Brian had hidden in his room and when John checked on him he found the boy crying. Tears were expected – those John could handle. But Brian had refused any comfort, shouting at his oldest brother to go away. John had retreated, shocked and hurt. He knew his younger brother was hurting but usually John was the first one, the only one, he ran to for comfort. In between bouts of sadness and anger, Brian was helpful. He volunteered for chores, taking on ones given to his brothers like he was trying to make something up to them. And Brian was also getting in trouble at school – more than usual. He'd been in two fights before Christmas and Mr. Clark had taken the unusual approach of not paddling him, knowing he was acting out from grief. Still, it left John at a loss for what to do, and school was starting again in just a few days. He felt like he should have his act together before then. 

When John moved home again he thought he and his brothers would use the shared tragedy to bond and become closer, but it wasn't happening like that. Christmas had been a sad affair. The boys had exchanged presents and John and Eddie had put out stockings, but it wasn't the same without their parents. They hadn't bothered with decorations other than a sparsely decorated tree that Uncle Joss and John had gotten. It was just too soon after the accident to want to celebrate. 

John sighed and listened as his aunt and uncle offered encouragement over the phone, counseling patience and saying things would get better in time. 

"Would it help if I came and stayed awhile?" Aunt Mary asked. John knew she meant it. If he said yes, his aunt would come. Both his aunt and uncle had come for several days immediately following his parents' deaths, sending their little girls off to stay with family friends in Deadwood. His uncle helped John figure out funeral arrangements and guardianship arrangements, and everything else that came with this new unwelcome change in their lives. Aunt Mary comforted the boys and filled the house with the smell of cooking and baking. With all of the food that she and Mrs. McCall and Mrs. Marks and half a dozen other concerned family friends had prepared, the Lofton brothers wouldn't have to cook for weeks and weeks. John knew his aunt would return if he said the word, but his uncle was right, he and his brothers had to find their new normal. 

"Thanks, Aunt Mary," he finally said. "I appreciate the offer, but I think my brothers and I have to figure this out. I have to figure this out. But if I could call again...?" 

"Call every day if you need to," his uncle firmly said. 

The three chatted a few more minutes, then hung up. John collected his jacket and left work, wondering what he was going home to.

**..»º*º«..**

"No!"

John took a deep breath. His youngest brother was trying his patience again. Was it on purpose? John wondered. Did Jeff _want_ to get in trouble? 

"Jeff, please set the table. I'm cooking-" John ignored the snort from Brian's direction at the term 'cooking'. He had heated up one of the casseroles from the freezer and apparently that didn't qualify for the term. "I'm cooking," John went on. "James is going to do the dishes, and your job tonight is setting the table." 

"No!" came the obstinate reply from the sofa. "James isn't even home! How's he gonna do the dishes?" 

Fair point, John thought. It was 5:30 already with no sign of James. He'd been gone most of the day at the mall with friends. Still, whether James was home to do the dishes was irrelevant as far as Jeff's setting the table went. "Jeffrey, please do as I say." 

The 12 year-old slumped further into the sofa. "I'm not hungry and I don't want another stupid casserole and I don't want to set the stupid table!" 

What happened to his happy little brother? Sadness was one thing, but where was this anger coming from? "It was kind of everyone to make so much food for us and I don't want to waste it. Get up before I start counting." 

Jeff crossed his arms with a frown, attention firmly on _The Flintstones_. 

"I'll set the table," Brian suddenly volunteered. 

John gratefully looked at the 15 year-old. He knew he should hold Jeff accountable for the one chore he was given, but he really didn't want the fight. A fight which would end in him having to punish his youngest brother. Again. He'd been spanked just two days ago. John hated his new role as sole disciplinarian, especially when it seemed like Jeff was going out of his way to court trouble. Glad for the sudden reprieve, he said, "Thanks, Brian." 

Brian gave a weak smile and drifted off to the kitchen. John looked back at Jeff, expecting some of the tension to have left the small face, but if anything his scowl had grown. John rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen.

**..»º*º«..**

"Last weekend of vacation," John said, breaking the silence at the dinner table. From the three glum expressions he got in return, he wished he'd started with something else. Pressing on he asked, "What classes did you register for, Eddie?"

Eddie shifted his weight in his chair. "Nothing." 

John's turn to frown. "Is the registrar's office open on Saturdays? You shouldn't be leaving it for Monday. It's going to be crowded with everyone else who waited til the last minute." 

Eddie shrugged. "I don't care. I'm thinking I'll take a semester off. Maybe a year off." 

"That's not a good idea." 

"Why not? What's it all matter anyway?" 

John heard the despair in his brother's voice, and knew exactly how he felt. What was the point of preparing for the future when your car could suddenly slip on ice and it could all end? John had had his own share of those thoughts over the last month, but they kept getting shoved aside by the immediacy of dealing with his brothers. Plus he knew his situation was different from Eddie's. John had finished college and grad school and had already begun his career. He merely had to continue on with things and help his brothers. Eddie was at the stage of trying to decide what he wanted to do when he grew up, and John knew that the hopelessness he was currently feeling just made it seem all the more pointless and impossible. He didn't really want to get into a big discussion about it in front of Jeff and Brian, however. They were having their own issues, and he didn't want to give them any new ones to think about. So for now he just quietly said, "Let's talk about it tomorrow. Things usually seem brighter in the morning." He gave a faint smile which wasn't returned by anyone.

**..»º*º«..**

James didn’t make it home for dinner or in time to help with the dishes or anything else. He came waltzing in the house about 9:15. His brothers were all watching TV together. No, not together. John sat in one of the armchairs, Eddie in the other. Brian was stretched out on one of the sofas, and Jeff was taking up the other one. All separate, alone in their chairs and with their own thoughts. They heard a car coming up the drive and knew it was one of James's friends bringing him home.

The 14 year-old opened the front door, letting the screen door bang shut behind him. He slunk inside, looking at the arrangement of his brothers on the furniture, and not finding a spot for himself, he headed for the stairs. 

"Hey, James," John said, halting his little brother's progress. "How was the mall?" 

"Alright." He slipped up the stairs to his room and the door closed behind him.

**Saturday, January 7th**

John slept horribly, thoughts of his brothers interrupting his sleep, and finally got up at 6:30. Everything was going wrong, and he felt like a horrible failure. His parents made raising a family of boys seem so easy, but he was failing horribly. If he continued at this rate, his brothers would all drop out of school and scatter to the winds and hate each other forever. John put on his bathrobe and quietly went downstairs and turned up the heat. The house felt cold. It was cold. In so many ways. In his frustration John went off to the kitchen, suddenly struck by the idea of making breakfast for everyone. Usually they just had cereal on the weekends, eaten in front of the TV while the younger boys watched Looney Tunes. John hoped to talk to Eddie, however, and that could be more easily accomplished over an actual meal. Waffles. He could do that. A search of the cabinets, however, didn't reveal any ready-made waffle mix. He dug out his mother's well-worn Betty Crocker cookbook and turned to the waffle recipe. He could do this!

Half an hour later Eddie awoke to a familiar smell that hadn't graced the house in a while. Putting on his bathrobe he went down the back staircase quietly so as to not wake his younger brothers. "Waffles?" He asked with a little smile. 

John turned and grinned. "Yeah, thought I would try my hand at it. Help yourself to coffee and sit down. The first one is almost ready."

Soon the two oldest brothers were spreading butter over hot waffles and drowning them in syrup. 

"Mmm, this is good," Eddie said around his first bite. 

"Thanks, maybe I'll do this every weekend." 

"Maybe I'll help." 

John and Eddie ate in companionable silence. Halfway through his first waffle Eddie suddenly said, "I looked forward to college soooo much. You made it look fun." 

"Fun?" John thought back to long nights studying chemistry at the college library – one of the few places he could find peace and quiet.

Quirking a smile Eddie modified that. "Maybe not fun, but interesting. It came so easily to you, and you always knew exactly what you wanted to do. I was looking forward to my chance to do that." 

"Your chance is now," his brother said quietly. 

"Yeah, but. It's all gone to crap." 

"All?" 

Eddie played with his food. "I got my grades back. I just barely passed. I think my professors took pity on me." 

Careful to keep his voice nonjudgmental, John said, "That's understandable. You'll do better this semester." 

"I don't want to even try." 

"You have to." 

"Why?" 

"Because I'm not letting you drop out and do nothing. Mom and Dad wouldn't want that for you." 

"Don't play the Mom and Dad card," Eddie said, annoyed. "That could be used for anything." 

"Fair enough. I don't want that for you. You aren't dropping out." 

Eddie had always followed John's lead. Growing up, he had tagged along after John, listened to his every word, had fun pestering him sometimes, but always ended up doing as his wise older brother wished. Part of him wanted to do that now. Part of him bristled at John acting parental and ordering him to go to school like a child. He pursed his lips and glared. "You can't tell me what to do." He half meant what he said. Realistically he knew John could tell him what to do, and through sheer force of will Eddie would probably buckle. He wanted to feel his brother out, though, and see how he would react. 

"Sorry, Eddie, but I _can_ tell you what to do. I'm your guardian, remember?" 

Eddie glared. "I'm 19. You can't tell me what to do." 

His brother leveled a gaze at the affronted teenager, deciding how to proceed. "You are 19. You're still living at home, and while you are, you have to do what I say." 

Eddie opened his mouth to ask who put John in charge, but promptly shut it before asking the ridiculous question. Of course John was in charge, and if there was any doubt, the visit to the courthouse when John officially became their guardian had decided it. 

John sat back and took on a more conciliatory tone. "I'm not having you rattling around the house with nothing to do. You need to keep your focus and work towards your future." 

"It might all be for nothing." 

"Maybe," John agreed, surprising Eddie. "But most likely not. In four years you'll be 23. You can be 23 and have a college degree and move forward with your life, or you can be 23 and not have a degree. You'll be the same age either way. I don't know about you, but I'd rather have the degree. Especially since you get free tuition now. It's too good of an opportunity to pass up." 

Eddie's glare lessened slightly, but he still wasn't convinced. 

"You'll want to be able to support a wife someday. And get a house. I'm not letting you live in the basement for the next 20 years." Eddie smiled slightly at that thought, and John continued. "Especially when you start having kids. The house will be full enough with MY kids. Add in yours, and we'll both go crazy. Get your own place." Eddie laughed, and John smiled. "Besides, from a practical standpoint, you have to be a full-time student to stay on my health insurance. Take at least 12 hours. You can take it slowly. Okay?" 

"Okay." Eddie thought about it a moment then repeated, "Okay," with more conviction. The part of him that didn't like John telling him what to do had given in to the other part of him that knew his brother was right. He was slightly relieved to have his immediate future decided for him so he wouldn't have to think about it and stress over it any longer. 

"Good. You can register today." 

"Monday. They're closed today." 

"Monday." 

Just then they heard a door open and footsteps pad down the hallway. "James or Jeff?" Eddie asked. 

"Hmm... my guess is James." 

The brothers waited and a moment later James appeared at the bottom of the staircase, sleepy-eyed with tousled hair, still in his flannel pajamas. He looked at the mess in the kitchen and at his brothers who were both smiling at him. "Waffles?" 

"Yeah," John said, getting up to start another round in the waffle iron. "Sit down and I'll make you some." 

James obediently sat at the kitchen table. Eddie got up and poured them all a glass of orange juice. James watched in silence as his older brothers prepared and served him breakfast. "Thanks," he said as a plate of hot waffles was set in front of him. No sooner had he begun to eat than there were more footsteps upstairs, and Jeff and Brian appeared. 

"Waffles!" Jeff happily said, for a moment appearing more like his old happy self. He picked up his plate prepared to carry it into the family room to watch cartoons. 

"No, stay here," John said. 

The youngest Lofton hesitated, plate in hand and juice glass in the other. 

"Yeah, let's have breakfast together," Eddie said. 

Jeff sidled back into his chair, and soon all five brothers were contentedly eating. 

"What do you all have planned today?" John asked, looking at James knowing he was the one who was most likely to go off somewhere alone. 

James and Brian shrugged. 

"I'm gonna watch TV," Jeff said. 

"I guess I'll look at the course catalog and figure out what I need to take," Eddie said. 

John nodded approvingly at that, then said, "I guess I'll start on laundry." 

"I'll do the dishes," Brian offered. 

"Thanks." John wondered at Brian's helpfulness. He had always been obedient when their parents asked him to do something, but he hadn't usually volunteered for extra tasks. In the last few weeks, however, Brian had been offering to do things for the others more and more. John didn't know if Brian was trying to step up as he was seeing his older brothers do, or if it was something else. For now he was just keeping an eye on it.

**..»º*º«..**

Jeff watched cartoons all morning while James and Brian both hung out in their rooms. Eddie had quickly figured out which courses he wanted to take next, and was reading in the family room. After suffering through several hours of cartoons John stretched and said, "Who wants to go sledding?"

Jeff looked up in interest. "I do!" 

"Tell your brothers and get dressed, and we'll all go out." 

Jeff scampered upstairs, the most lively he had been in weeks. John and Eddie both dressed warmly and waited downstairs for the others. Jeff and Brian soon joined them, Jeff excited and Brian quiet but willing. "Where's James?" Eddie asked. 

"He doesn't want to go," Jeff said. 

Brian looked pained at that, but it was John who said, "I'll get him. Meet you all out at the hill." 

The others trouped outside and John went upstairs to Jeff and James's room. He rapped once on the door and when there was no reply he opened the door. James was laying on his bed staring at the ceiling. "Hey," John said. 

James turned to look at him but said nothing. 

"Don't you want to go sledding?" Left unsaid was the fact that it was the first time any of them had gone for over a month. 

"Not really," came the quiet reply. 

John debated leaving his little brother alone, but his uncle's words came back to him. Look at what's working, and what's not working, and adjust accordingly. James distancing himself from the family was definitely not working. John sat on the bed, making James scoot over a little to accommodate him. He gently placed a hand on the boy's knee and squeezed a little. What to say? How to start? Finally, he said what was on his mind and in his heart. "I miss you, James." 

James darted a look at his oldest brother, surprised. "Huh?" 

"I think I saw more of you when I still lived in town. I know you're hurting, and I want to give you time to grieve, but separating yourself from all of us... I don't think it helps." 

"I don’t... I don't want to be a downer." 

John's turn for surprise. "I hardly think you're that. Everyone is sad right now, but I think we'll all be better off if we stick together and don't distance ourselves." 

James shrugged. John was starting to hate his younger brothers' dismissive shrugs. 

John took a breath. "Come with us. Fresh air will do you good." 

"I don't feel like having fun." 

"You can just watch if you want, but I want you out there with us." 

James pouted. John stood and pulled his brother up. "Come on, get dressed. Unless you want me to dress you." James went floppy like a ragdoll, causing John to hoist him a little to keep him upright. "Okay, it won't be the first time I've dressed you," he said with a grin, reaching to pull his little brother's pajama top over his head. 

"Stop, stop! I'll do it myself," James protested. 

"Good boy." John stepped back to let James take over. 

Soon the entire family was outside sledding down the hill. John was determined to have fun for the boys' sake, and Eddie rallied his own mood into something resembling 'having fun'. Brian tirelessly dragged the sleds back up the hill so his brothers could ride them down again. Jeff took advantage of Brian's efforts and was the only one really enjoying himself. He liked having his brothers around him paying attention to him. James started off just watching, but he got cold just standing there, and finally allowed himself to be enticed into taking a run downhill. One run which turned into several, and he would have been surprised to learn that he actually smiled a few times during the afternoon.

**..»º*º«..**

Late Saturday afternoon John, Brian, and Jeff went grocery shopping while Eddie and James started dinner. John was distracted, trying to remember everything they needed. He wasn't really accustomed to grocery shopping for the whole family. They still had tons of casseroles so they didn't need supplies for meal preparation so much as all the things that went along with a main dish and stuff for school lunches. Fresh fruit and vegetables for salads, bread for sandwiches... what else? He should have made a list. He vowed to start keeping track for future shopping trips.

Brian followed along pushing the cart, trying to be helpful and not saying much, but dutifully retrieving items when John asked him to. To all appearances Jeff was also being helpful, but at one point John looked into the cart and saw a bunch of items he hadn't requested. 

"What's this?" John asked, picking up a package of frozen fish sticks. 

"Can we get those?" Jeff asked. "I like them." 

"Okay," John agreed. He didn't mind getting something special for his little brother. Then he noticed the half dozen packages of cookies. "We're not getting all those." 

"Why not?" the 12 year-old whined. "I like them." 

"We can't get everything we like. We have to be practical." 

"Can't we afford them?" Jeff, like James and Brian, was uncertain about their family finances now that their dad was no longer providing for them. 

"We can afford them, we're just not going to buy them. Put them back." John dug out the cookies and handed them to Jeff who accepted them with another whine and a small stamp of his foot. "Jeffrey," John cautioned. Jeff turned and stomped off to the cookie aisle. John looked at Brian. "Did you see him put those in?" 

"Yes." 

"Why didn't you say something?" 

Brian shrugged. "I didn't know you'd mind. I thought-" The boy looked away. "I thought he could have something fun." 

"He doesn't need a cart full of cookies." Jeff had the biggest sweet tooth of any of his brothers, and John already knew he was going to have to keep an eye on that. 

"Sorry," Brian said softly. 

"I'm not mad at you," John said, briefly resting a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. Brian returned his smile, but falteringly. Once again John wondered what was up with the boy. 

Jeff reappeared, scowling at being denied his cookies. He silently followed the cart, purposely squeaking his sneakers on the linoleum. 

"Jeffrey," John said, giving him a warning look. 

The boy raised his chin defiantly, and without looking, reached out to the nearest shelf and pulled an item at random and threw it in the cart. John and Brian shared an incredulous look at his behavior, then Brian leaned over to see what it was. Giving a quick laugh, Brian said, "Sure you want that?" 

"Yes!" 

John saw what it was and would have laughed if he hadn't been so annoyed at Jeff. "You're going to eat it?" 

Jeff hesitated, wishing he knew what he had selected. "Yes!" 

"Okay, but that's it, Jeff. Add anything else to the cart without permission, and you and I will be having a discussion about it when we get home." 

His older brothers watched in disbelief as Jeff deliberately took a step back, reached for another can, and threw it in the cart with such force that it hit the metal side with a loud bang. The boy then crossed his arms and scowled at John. 

"That's it. Go wait in the car," John ordered. 

Jeff dug in his heels, a silent tantrum playing out across his face. 

"Go. Now. Unless you want a spanking right here in the store." 

That threat spurred Jeff into action. "I hate you!" he shouted, then spun and ran out of the store. 

"He doesn't," Brian said uncertainly, as shocked by the exclamation as John was. 

"I know," John said, trying to hide the hurt he felt. "Let's finish up." He reached into the cart and removed the two items Jeff had added. 

"I thought you were going to make Jeff eat that," Brian said with a smile. 

"He's not Popeye. I seriously doubt he wants to eat canned spinach." John managed a laugh despite the hollowness he felt inside. 

"Serve him right, though!" Brian said, sounding more like himself.

**..»º*º«..**

Once at home Jeff fled upstairs to his room, knowing his oldest brother would be on his way shortly. John, meanwhile, helped carry the groceries to the kitchen where Brian took over putting everything away. He really didn't want to talk to Jeff; the boy had been hateful and even though John knew he was a hurting child he was at a loss as to how to help him. He knew he had to punish him, but while that might stop his misbehavior for the day, it wouldn't help him. It had to be done, though. John stopped off in his room for an item, then went to Jeff's room.

Jeff was on his bed still dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, despite having been told to change into pajamas. John closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms, the hairbrush in full view. Jeff eyed the dreaded implement and wanted to whimper. He knew he had pushed and pushed his brother and deserved it, so he stopped himself before it came out, but still... 

John watched as the wide-eyed boy scooted back on the bed and reached for a pillow, clutching it protectively to his chest. "You were told to change," he sternly observed. 

"No!" 

John figured his little brother was on defiance autopilot. Crossing to the bed he pulled the boy up to his knees and landed one hard swat with the brush on his behind. 

"Oww!" 

"Change your clothes. Now." John released him, and Jeff pouted. 

"I don’t want to," he said sullenly. 

John's turn to shrug. "Do I have to count?" 

Jeff hesitated until he heard the count of one, then he slowly started changing. Keeping an eye on John and his hairbrush, Jeff quickly pulled the sweatshirt over his head, replacing it with his pajama top. His defiance and bravado deserted him as he slowly pulled off his jeans and pulled on his pajama bottoms. Sitting back on the bed the whimper finally escaped him. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I don't hate you. I didn't mean that." 

John was relieved to hear the apology, though he figured it was brought about by the presence of the hairbrush. Sitting beside the boy he said, "Thank you. What happened, Jeff? We had a nice morning and a nice afternoon, then you threw a tantrum. Why?" 

"I don't know." 

"That behavior is unacceptable, not to mention that what you said was hurtful." 

"I'm sorry." The boy inched closer to John, seeking comfort, but John wasn't ready to give it. 

"I know you're having a hard time now. We all are. Is there anything I should be doing to help make it better for you?" 

"Um..." Jeff shrugged. "I dunno." 

"Well, you think about it, okay, kiddo?" 

Jeff looked up at his nickname, and John saw a touch of his lost little brother inside. "I will," the boy earnestly said. 

John tapped his leg. "Alright. Let's get this done." 

"But I didn't want _that_ ," Jeff said, giving the hairbrush a pointed look. 

John thought the emphasis strange. Had the boy wanted a spanking? He'd certainly been asking for it the last few weeks. Like he wanted one, just not one bad enough to warrant the dreaded brush. "You've earned it." 

A pout. "But I'm sorry," he whined. 

"I'm sure you are. Come on now." John patted his knee, and Jeff crawled closer but couldn't bring himself to lay across his brother's lap. John picked up the child, laid him across his lap, and tugged his pajama bottoms and underwear down below his behind. Jeff squirmed and his brother repositioned him so he was more or less comfortable. Then he raised his hand and proceeded to make the boy uncomfortable, with eight hard swats. Jeff tried to get up, but John held him down. "Not so fast." He picked up the hairbrush and popped it against the upturned bottom four times. Jeff dissolved in tears. John righted his underwear and pajama bottoms and turned the boy over and held him in his arms. Jeff snuggled into John's side, no trace of his earlier defiance or naughtiness. The pain in his behind and tears in his eyes had reduced him to a small boy seeking comfort from his oldest brother, and he cried out his hurts, just as he had on the other recent occasions when he'd been spanked. He melted into his brother's strong arms and sobbed into his warm chest. The tears lessened after several minutes, and John stood him up with a squeezing hug. 

"I'm sorry, John," Jeff said again softly. 

"I know. You're forgiven." 

"I'm sorry," the boy repeated with a whimper, as if unsure that John believed him. 

"I know. I love you, kiddo." 

"I love you too," Jeff said, wrapping his arms around his brother and falling onto his shoulder. 

John patted his back, then said, "Let's go downstairs, alright? I think I smell another one of the casseroles in the oven." 

Jeff pulled back, grimacing. John laughed a little. "Come on, it smells good." 

He escorted Jeff downstairs, the boy clinging to him the whole way. The tater tot casserole was just coming out of the oven and after Eddie dished up plates, the whole family gravitated towards the family room. John sat down on the sofa with his plate in hand only to move it hurriedly to the side when his youngest brother plopped himself down on his lap. Aside from the cuddle time immediately following a spanking, Jeff hadn't sat on his lap in maybe two years. As he did so now, something clicked for John. He thought back over the last month. Sure, he had hugged his youngest brother on occasion. He thought he remembered doing so. He hoped so. Had he? Other than the times his little brother was in trouble? His aunt had doled out hugs and loving touches to all the boys when she was here. Had he neglected his youngest brother? Suddenly overwhelmed with guilt, John casually put an arm around the boy's waist, signaling that it was alright for him to be where he was. 

No wonder the boy had been acting up, if indeed that was the cause of it. He knew his parents had hugged each of their sons every day, and the little one probably felt the lack of it the most. John would step up. Why didn't Jeff just initiate contact himself? Because he was a child, John reminded himself, and probably didn't even realize what was going on himself. He likely just sought the comfort he received after he'd been spanked. John's thoughts drifted back to the comment about not wanting the hairbrush, as if an ordinary spanking by hand might have been okay. Maybe the boy did on some level know what he was doing. Feeling his heart break a little, John decided he would immediately start showing his brothers more outward affection. He looked over at James who had managed to spend the whole day with his family, even if he was still unusually quiet. Brian, who was still on his helpful kick. If John didn't know better he would think Brian was acting guilty about something and was trying to make amends. And Eddie. John wasn't stupid. He knew his next-youngest brother would still need lots of encouragement in the weeks and months to come. Just because he had agreed to register for the new semester didn't mean his heart was in it. Still, John thought they were making progress. Slowly. Starting with the things that weren't working.

**Sunday, January 8th**

Sunday morning John set his alarm so he would be sure to be first up again. He considered the previous morning's breakfast a success and wanted to try it again, along with his decision to show more affection. He started pancakes, using the mix he had bought the evening before, and had them ready to go when Brian showed up first. John deliberately crossed the room to hug his little brother. When he let the boy go, he was met with a suspicious look. 

"Did I do something?" Brian asked. 

John laughed. "No." 

"Did you do something?" 

"No. Can't a guy hug his baby brother without twenty questions?" To illustrate his point he grabbed Brian in another hug. 

Brian allowed it a moment then pulled back. "Jeff's the baby, not me." 

"You're all my baby brothers." 

"Sheesh," Brian said, but with a grin. "Can I have coffee?" 

"No. Milk or juice." 

Brian helped himself to juice, thinking it had been worth a try. Before too long the others all woke up and joined them for breakfast, and John hugged each of them in turn. Jeff melted into his arms and even James lost his standoffishness for the duration. Eddie was probably the most surprised, but he tolerated the affection with a sardonic smile. 

**..»º*º«..**

Sunday afternoon were the Conference Championship games, and John settled in for a long day of football. First up were the Washington Redskins versus the San Francisco 49ers followed by the Los Angeles Raiders against the Seattle Seahawks. Without his favorite Broncos in the mix, John was supporting the 49ers and the Seahawks. The other boys joined him in the family room with popcorn and root beer. As Jeff passed John to sit on the floor, John gently reached out and snagged him by a belt loop.

"What?" Jeff squawked, laughing as he was pulled backwards. 

John silently hauled him back then lifted him onto his lap. Jeff twisted around to look at John in surprise, but quickly settled into this new spot. The others all surreptitiously watched. Their youngest brother sitting on their oldest brother's lap. Same as the night before only this time a spanking hadn't preceded it. No one said anything, though. As the game progressed one or other of the boys brought out more snacks, and the brothers enjoyed a quiet, lazy, afternoon of football. And Jeff drifted off to sleep, safe in his brother's arms.

**Friday, January 13th**

The week was progressing nicely, John thought. Every morning he had made a point to hug each of his brothers, and several evenings now Jeff had sought out his company. Not always sitting on his lap, but sitting closely beside him, maybe in the crook of his arm. His behavior had begun to improve too. Now that he had John's attention he didn't have to seek it out. James was still to be found in his room when John got home from work, but would dutifully come downstairs when John came to collect him. Eddie began his new courses and hadn't complained overly much, so John was chalking that up as a win. Brian was still an enigma. Then on Friday John received a phone call at work from the high school. Brian was involved in another fight. Mr. Clark's previous forbearance was at an end and he'd paddled the boy.

John and Eddie got home from the college about 5:15 and John immediately sought out his brother in his room. Brian was face down on his bed looking at a magazine. He rolled onto his side when John entered the room. 

"How are you doing?" John asked, knowing his brother would still be in pain. 

"I'm okay." 

"Tell me what happened." 

"I was in a fight." 

"I gathered that from Mr. Clark's call. Please elaborate." 

Brian shrugged. "Charlie and I got in a fight. No big deal." 

John contemplated the teenager sprawled out on the bed. Three fights in a month and he was shrugging it off as no big deal. John had only been in one fight in high school, and for that he'd been paddled by Mr. Clark at school. When he got home his mother had sent him to his dad's study to wait, and when his father got home from work he received both a lecture and a licking with his belt. The pain of the belt on top of the paddling he got at school had successfully deterred him from ever fighting at school again. Up to now John had followed Mr. Clark's lead, making allowances for Brian's grief, but maybe it was time for that to end. How many fights would he get in if he just let it go again? Brian was a good fighter and it was just a matter of time before he or Charlie got seriously hurt. Coming to a decision as he considered his brother, John said, "After dinner I want you to go to the study." 

Brian's eyebrows shot up in alarm. He knew the significance of the study, though John didn't know if his dad had ever whipped him there. That had mostly been reserved for him as the oldest, and Eddie on one or two occasions. 

"The study?" Brian asked faintly. 

"Yes. I have to punish you for this, Brian." 

The teen gulped a little. "But Mr. Clark- I got- I got punished at school." 

"And I aim to make sure the lesson sticks. After dinner." John stood, and even though he was trying to remain stern, he couldn't resist brushing his brother's hair back from his forehead. 

Everyone sensed the tension at supper and knew of Brian's impending doom. When the meal ended Brian offered to do the dishes, but John recognized it as a stalling technique and sent him off to the study to wait. John did the dishes himself, knowing that part of the reason a trip to the study was so powerful was because of the time spent in solitude waiting for punishment. After the dishes he left his other brothers in the family room where they were all doing homework in front of the TV, and made his way to the study. 

Brian was sitting uncomfortably in the small wooden chair in front of their father's desk, and he watched with big eyes as his brother entered. John walked up to the desk, unbuckled his belt, and slowly pulled it through his belt loops. Once in hand he doubled it and set it on the desk where it made a satisfying clanking noise that caused his little brother to flinch. John went around and sat in their father's oversized leather chair feeling like a bully and a fraud. John leaned back in the chair and again contemplated his little brother. He could just order him over the desk and whale away at him, but he didn't want to do that. He still felt there was something under the surface that was bothering his brother, something even more than his tremendous grief. 

"Tell me about today," he said quietly. 

Brian didn't shrug this time. Shrugs belonged in bedrooms and the family room, not in the formal study. Once things reached the level of being sent to the study, casual behavior like trying to shrug away questions wasn't allowed. 

"Charlie and I got in a fight." 

"About what?" 

Brian had to think about it. He bit his lip then said, "Nothing in particular. We were trading insults and it just escalated." 

"That doesn't sound very smart. If you get in a fight it should be for something that counts." 

The teenager was a little surprised his brother didn't just say all fights were bad. "Yessir," he said quietly, eyes drifting to the belt on the desk. He couldn't help it. His brother's face was stern and his eyes were hard and Brian had a hard time maintaining eye contact. The belt, on the other hand, was right in front of him and he had a morbid fascination with the knowledge that soon this object would be causing him a lot of pain. He was already in pain from the four swats he had received at school. He wished John would just hurry up and whip him already. Would it hurt as much as when his father licked him? John had spanked him when he was younger, but had never taken a belt to him. With that thought Brian realized this was new for John too, being on the giving end of such a punishment. He should hurry up already! Finally the silence got to be too much for Brian and he looked up at his brother again. The hardness in John's eyes had softened and the love and compassion he read in his brother's eyes made him quickly look away again. 

"What's going on with you, Brian?" 

"Nothing." 

"I know there's something." 

"My parents just died," the boy said sarcastically. "Maybe that's it." 

John was not impressed. He leaned back in his seat and folded his hands across his chest giving his brother a level look. Now John's eyes drifted to the belt and his little brother paled. "I'm sorry," Brian finally said into the silence, shifting uncomfortably on his hard chair. 

"I know it's hard," John said. "But I can't help feeling like there's something else going on. You haven't been acting like yourself." 

Brian snorted. "Have any of us?" 

Keep pushing, John thought. Out loud he said, "It's different with you. You've been acting almost... guilty." 

The teen started at that, and sat on his hands to stop their sudden trembling. He returned his gaze to the desk, trying not to look at the belt this time. "C-can we just get it over with?" 

"Not yet." 

"Please?" He kicked his foot to distract from the tears that were forming in his eyes. 

"No. Talk to me, Brian." John watched as his brother got visibly upset the further the conversation went. Feeling like they were getting somewhere, he just wanted to get whatever it was out in the open and deal with it and move on. He wanted his little brother back. Taking a stab that he was interpreting his brother's behavior correctly he asked, "Why are you feeling guilty?" 

"I'm n-not," Brian said, taking a shuddering breath at the end of the declaration. 

"What did you do?" 

"Nothing," he replied in a low voice. 

Deciding to change tactics John said, "Alright. Jeans and underwear down and bend over the desk." He stood and crossed back to the other side of the desk and picked up his belt. 

Brian was shocked at the speed of events. One moment they were talking then suddenly it was time to go over the desk. He stood up and awkwardly shoved the chair away from the desk, then unbuttoned his jeans with trembling hands and shoved them down to his knees. With one baleful glance at John he pulled his underwear down too, then quickly bent over the desk and buried his face in his crossed arms. 

John stood next to his brother and looked at his behind. He hated belting him after he'd been paddled at school. He'd have to be careful not to hurt the boy too much; there was already some faint bruising on his bottom. Steeling himself, John said, "This is for fighting at school." He drew the doubled belt up and brought it down in a solid whack. Brian jolted from the impact but quickly stilled himself for more. It only took two more licks of the belt to start the tears flowing. John gave him two more swats then stood back. "Sit down." 

Brian slowly, painfully, stood up, tears running down his face. His arms and the desk were already wet. The teen looked at the chair, clearly not wanting to sit so soon, and not knowing if his punishment was over and if he should get dressed again. Deciding it would be disrespectful to sit in the chair with his naked behind, he stooped to pull up his underwear, then shuffled to the chair and sat down as tenderly as he could, stifling a whimper. 

John longed to comfort his little brother, but they weren't done yet. "What did you do?" he asked, repeating the question from earlier. No defenses left, Brian brought his hands to his face and sobbed. John let him cry, stifling every instinct he had not to take the boy in his arms. Finally he sat on the edge of the desk and nudged his brother's leg. "What did you do?" he asked gently. 

Brian mumbled something that John couldn't understand. "What? Say it again." 

Brian took a deep shuddering breath. "It's all my f-fault." 

"What's your fault?" John asked. 

"Mom and Dad. It's my fault they died." Brian looked up at John with such a bleak hopeless look that John gave in to his instincts. He gently pulled Brian up out of his chair, sat in his place, and pulled the boy back down to sit sideways on his lap so he could see him. 

"How's it your fault?" John asked. 

"It's my fault that we don't have them anymore. And Jeff is so messed up. And James is so lost. And Eddie almost dropped out. I did it." 

"Tell me why you think that?" John demanded. He'd become more alarmed the more Brian said. 

"M-my fault they went to town." 

"No, it isn't. Why do you think that?" 

Brian wiped tears away and took a deep breath. "I was in trouble at school and didn't go home. And I didn't call to let them know where I was, so they came to town to look for me." 

John was floored. His brother had been carrying guilt over their parents' deaths for the last month? False guilt, at that. "No, Brian. That's not what happened. Where did you get that idea?" 

"It makes sense, doesn't it? Why else would they go to town? It was Friday, family night. They must have been out looking for me." 

"Brian, Brian." John pulled his brother's head back to rest on his chest and cradled him. "It makes sense and I can see why you thought that, but it's not true. Mom and Dad went to a concert in town. They called me at my apartment looking for you, and said if you showed up I was to hang onto you." 

Brian shook his head, not ready to hear the truth and let go of his guilt yet. 

"Eddie!" John yelled, turning to the door. A minute later Eddie entered the library taking in the unusual sight of a sobbing Brian in John's arms. 

"Yeah?" he asked, looking like he wanted to leave again and go back to M*A*S*H. 

"The night Mom and Dad died. Why were they going to town?" 

"A concert," Eddie replied, wondering why they were discussing this now. Everyone knew that already. 

"A c-concert?" Brian asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice. 

"Yeah. Dad was all set to whip you, but when you didn't come home on time they finally took off. They didn't want to be late." Eddie gave a rueful grin. "Dad said when you came home I was to hold on to you for an unprecedented whipping." 

"I _w-was_ waiting," Brian said, nodding. 

John remembered back to that night. He had gotten the sheriff's call at his apartment, then he had driven to the house to tell his brothers in person. They were all watching TV except for Brian, who had been waiting in the study. John hadn't associated it with him being in trouble, his mind barely functioning as he thought how to deliver the awful news. John looked down at his crying brother. "They weren't looking for you. It wasn't the first time you'd been in trouble and gone to a friend's house rather than come home right away. They knew you'd come home. They went to a Christmas concert, they weren't looking for you. It wasn't your fault. You did nothing." 

Brian's sobbing had lessened at this sudden change in his worldview, and John nodded at Eddie, signaling that he could leave again. John held his brother, rocking him slightly until the crying stopped. "Not my fault?" 

"No. Not your fault." 

"I thought it was." 

"I wish I knew that before now. That must have been awful to live with." 

"I thought I'd taken them from all of you." 

That explained why he'd been catering to his brothers and was so helpful. "Not your fault," John repeated. "You can let it go." 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Brian softly said, "I never did get punished." 

"I think that's water under the bridge at this point." 

"But- it's not over. I waited and waited for him to get home and punish me, and I worried about it, and then you came, and- and- I thought it was my fault. And I felt so guilty ever since. I didn't think I could ever forgive myself, and if you all knew you'd never forgive me either." 

"There's nothing I wouldn't forgive you for." 

"I still have to be punished. I want to put it all behind me." 

After the five licks he'd given his brother John had thought he might have to add one or two more before declaring the punishment over. The last thing he wanted to do, however, was give his brother a full whipping on top of the paddling and what he had already received. He gave his brother a doubtful look. 

"Please, John. You have no idea how relieved I am, but I want it all over and done with. Dad was going to whip me and- and he didn't get to. Please just finish it." 

"Okay," John finally agreed, recognizing Brian's need for absolution for anything connected to that night. "You wait here." He stood his brother up and left him in the library. He gave his other brothers a faint smile as he passed them, then ran up the stairs to his parents' room. It wasn't the first time he had retrieved his father's belt and he went straight to it, hanging from a nail on the inside of the closet door. By tradition Brian should have been fetching it, but he was in a fragile state, emotionally and physically, and John didn't want to put him through more than he had to. He lifted the belt off the nail, knowing exactly how the thick worn leather would feel. He doubled it and carried it downstairs. He didn't hide it from the others, and James and Eddie watched his progress with wide eyes as he walked through the family room. Jeff's attention was firmly on the TV, as it so often was. 

John reentered the study and found Brian standing in front of the desk. His little brother seemed so much calmer than when he entered earlier in the evening, even with the imminent prospect of getting whipped again. Brian even offered a little smile, and John knew it reflected some of the relief he felt. 

"Alright, what were you in trouble for at school that day?" 

"I set off a smoke bomb in gym class." Brian smirked at the memory, looking like his old self for the first time since that fateful night in December. 

"Okay," John said. "Back over the desk." 

Despite his relief Brian was still apprehensive at the prospect of getting licked again, and his smile faded. "Yessir." He dropped his underwear again and got back into position. 

John placed one hand on the boy's back and gave him the first swat with their father's belt. Brian yelped but stayed in place. Two more licks in and Brian stood up, hopping a little. "Get back down," John said, using his hand to keep the boy in place this time rather than just having it on his back for comfort. John gave him two more, good ones, then declared the punishment over. He knew it probably didn't compare to the 15 his father would have given the teen, but he'd given him five with each belt, and that was on top of the swats he had gotten at school. 

"It's over," John said, tossing the belt over to the window seat. 

Brian straightened and pulled his underwear up, and John saw the relief on his brother's face even through his tears. John hugged him again, then helped him kick off his jeans. Once the crying stopped, John said, "I'll get your pajamas. Meet you in the family room, okay?" 

"Okay. Thanks, John." 

"Anytime," John replied with a grin. 

Ten minutes later the boys were once again sprawled in front of the TV, only this time they were all on one sofa. Eddie on one end with Jeff on his lap; John left of center with James on one side and Brian on the other, an arm around each of them. John thought about his brothers and the progress they'd made in the past few days and the revelations of the evening, and all the work still to do. While the others watched the Friday night line-up, he thought over his parents' rules, considering which ones might be useful in drawing his brothers back together.

**Saturday, January 14th**

Saturday morning John awoke before his alarm clock sounded, eager for the day ahead. He'd been up half the night thinking about his brothers and he was anxious to share his plans and see how they would respond. Since he was up early he decided to experiment with the waffle recipe a bit, and took the time to finely chop some pecans he had found in the freezer. Eddie was the first downstairs, and he grinned. "Pecan waffles? You're getting fancy!"

"You bet I am." John shared his ideas with Eddie, knowing he was going to need his brother's support for everything to work. His brother nodded at everything and said he thought they were all good ideas. The two brothers worked together and by the time the three younger boys were downstairs they were met with a platter loaded with waffles and bacon. 

"Family meeting," John said when everyone was sitting with a full plate in front of him. Four pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly. "We're going to make some changes around here," he began. 

"Is this one of them?" Brian asked with a grin, indicating the full breakfast. 

John smiled back, relieved at seeing his little brother more like his carefree old self. Sitting on a pillow at the table, but John would allow that. "Yes, it is. On the weekends, when I'm not working. And speaking of work, after the school called yesterday-" all eyes went to Brian who blushed and reached for the syrup. "After the call, I talked to my boss and we were able to change my work schedule. I'll be going in earlier every day so I can get off at 3 and be home when you kids get home from school." 

All three of the younger boys perked up at that news. James and Brian probably wouldn't admit it, but coming home to an empty house after a lifetime of their mother greeting them had been very hard. Jeff just beamed. 

"And we're going to a rotating chore schedule. Eddie and I will divvy up the chores every week and they'll rotate week by week. Brian will no longer be doing everyone's extra work." 

Brian gave a shy grin at this indication that John knew why he'd been trying to make things up to his brothers and that it was no longer necessary. 

"I'm re-instituting one of our old rules. Home by six. That goes for everyone. You need to be home by six or let Eddie or I know where you are. And we have veto power. You can't call up every day and say you're going to the mall and will be back late. I want you boys home." 

James looked down at this rule knowing it was most likely for him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. His freedom was being curtailed but knowing his oldest brother wanted him around, that was worth something. A lot, actually. He nodded with the others. 

"I'm also introducing a basic rule. Obedience. You kids have to obey Eddie and I when we ask you to do something. I don't want to ask you five times to do something, and I don't want to engage in endless arguing. I'll ask once, and if I have to ask again, you're getting swatted. Understand?" 

Jeff wondered why John was looking at him as he explained this particular rule, but he nodded along with his brothers. 

"Good." John sat back in his chair and looked at Eddie. "Did I forget anything?" 

"I don't think so." 

"Anything you boys want to say? Any questions?" 

The three younger boys looked at each other and shook their heads. Then Jeff raised a hand and glared indignantly when James and Brian laughed at him for doing it. "Shut up!" Deciding to ignore them, he said, "John, I have a question. Can we still watch TV while we're doing our homework?" 

"I have no problem with that as long as it gets done." 

"Yes! Um, do we have bedtimes now?" 

Now it was James and Brian's turn to glare. Leave it to Jeff to put ideas into John's head! 

"No," John readily said. It wasn't the first time he had thought about bedtimes since he'd been home. So far the boys had been fairly responsible about getting to bed on time. "Not unless you start staying up all night or are too sleepy to stay awake in school or get cranky from being tired." 

Jeff gave his brothers a smug look. 

"Anything else?" John asked. When no one spoke up, he said, "It's been an awful month, and I know things are still going to be hard for a while. Things will get better. I think if we realize that we're all grieving, all in our own ways, and are patient with each other, and talk to each other, I think we can get through it together. We need each other, though. All of us. We need to be here for each other, alright?" 

The boys all nodded, and John stood up. "Okay. Group hug!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene between John and Brian at the end was one of the original chapters of the story I wrote a long, long time ago. It's lost somewhere in my file cabinet so I recreated it. The idea that Cutter originally felt responsible for his parents' deaths was an undercurrent in the whole series, however, and somewhere in part 1 or 2 he refers to that night. 
> 
> Up next: a lighter look back at a time when Scott babysits the younger boys. Let me know if you have any particular ideas for antics you'd like to see happen!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. The Babysitting Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott babysits!
> 
> John & Scott 17, Eddie 13, Cutter 9, James 8, Jeff 6

**Thursday, October 20th, 1977**

"Why is Scott coming to babysit? I don't need a babysitter!" Recently-turned 13 year-old Eddie was - unusually for him - incensed. His parents were leaving the next morning for a weekend business trip. Usually Susanna stayed home with the boys on Russell's infrequent trips, but this time he was going to Denver and she wanted to take the opportunity to visit an old friend who now lived in that city. John was coming along to visit the University of Colorado, even though it was pretty much decided he would be attending SM&T in town the next year. Susanna and Russell decided to take a chance and asked Scott to stay overnight with the younger boys. He had never babysat the boys on his own before, but he had helped John countless times, plus with his father being the sheriff, they knew additional help was just a phone call away. 

"You don't need a babysitter," his mother agreed, "But your brothers do, especially overnight." 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I can babysit them. I have before." Yes, technically he had babysat his little brothers on his own, but never for more than half an hour or so while his parents ran a quick errand. To Eddie's mind, however, that qualified him for this bigger job. 

"And you do a wonderful job," Susanna agreed, folding a blouse and placing it in a suitcase on the bed in the master bedroom. 

Refusing to be mollified, Eddie protested, "So why does Scott have to come?" 

"Your father and I feel more comfortable having someone older staying overnight with you boys." 

"I'm old enough," Eddie griped, just as his dad walked in to the bedroom. 

"Old enough for what?" Russell asked. 

"Old enough to babysit this weekend." 

"Not overnight," his father said, affirming what his wife had just said. 

"I can do it! We don't need Scott to come over." 

"I thought you liked Scott," Russell said. 

"I do," Eddie said, and he did. John's best friend was like another older brother and he always had fun when he came over. That was the problem though. Eddie wanted to be thought of as responsible enough to care for his younger siblings overnight. He didn't need another older brother showing up to do that for him. 

"It's very nice of Scott to give up his weekend to come over and spend time with you all. Just look at it as hanging out with your friend," his mother said. 

Eddie rolled his eyes again, but this time his father saw it and narrowed his own. "Sorry," Eddie said quickly in an effort to forestall any parental correction. 

"Behave yourself," his dad ordered. 

"Yessir. Sorry, Mom." 

Susanna gave him a quick hug and a smile while Russell nodded approvingly. Their second son didn't often get in a tiff about something, and it usually just took a word or look to bring him back into line. 

"I'm sure you'll have fun with Scott," his mother said. 

"Yes, you can be a big help to him," his father said. 

"Okay," Eddie said. "I'll help him." He managed to hide the smirk that threatened to surface when he suddenly thought of all the 'help' he could offer Scott.

**Friday, October 21st**

Friday afternoon Scott Marks pulled into the Lofton driveway, which after 17 years was as familiar to him as his own. He had already swung by the grade school to pick up his four young charges. Scott parked outside the house and the boys spilled out of the car full of afterschool energy. The weekend was here and they were going to have a fun time with Scott while their parents were gone!

Scott dropped his overnight bag in John's room then wandered down to the kitchen. Opening the fridge he saw two casserole dishes covered in tin foil that Mrs. Lofton had left, with notes on top specifying oven temperatures and time to cook. One for Friday and one for Saturday. Easy enough. He heard the TV in the family room and went out to join the boys. 

"Do you guys have any homework?" he asked, having to speak loudly to be heard over _The Brady Bunch_. 

James and Cutter looked at each other then back at Scott. "Nope!" they both proclaimed. 

"I just have some History," Eddie said. "I can do it later."

"Jeff?" Scott asked, getting the youngest boy's attention. 

"Huh?" Jeff asked, eyes flitting to Scott. 

"Homework." 

The six-year-old scrunched up his face as if unsure of what this strange word meant. "Huh?" 

James and Cutter giggled while Scott asked again, "Jeff, do you have any homework?" 

"Homework?! I'm in first grade!" 

Scott wasn't so naïve as to believe that _none_ of them besides Eddie had any, but it was Friday night and the kids had all weekend to do it. He settled back on the sofa and watched TV with the boys. As the afternoon wore on he asked, "Anyone getting hungry? I can start dinner." 

"What are we having?" James asked. 

Before Scott could mention the casseroles, however, Eddie interjected, "Pizza! Just like we do every Friday night!" 

"Pizza?" Scott asked with a laugh. "No, your mom left a couple of meals for us to heat up. What do you want first? The tuna casserole or the enchiladas?" 

"They're not for us," Eddie said with a straight face. 

Scott played along. "Oh yeah? Then who are they for?" 

"For church! There's a potluck Sunday evening," Eddie replied. 

The 17 year-old knew he was being played, but looking at all the nodding, earnest-faced little boys – wow, they were good. Well, Jeff's big grin was kind of a giveaway – the little one would have to work on that if he wanted to get away with lying in the future, not that Scott would give him that advice! 

"Yeah, that's why they left us lots of money!" Cutter added, gesturing to the bills that his parents had left on the family room table, weighted down with a salt shaker. 

Seeming conflicted, Scott gave a little shrug. "Well, I guess if it's for church, we should leave it." He picked up the money from under the spoon and made a show of counting the collection of fives. "$30. I guess we can get pizza, since that's what you have every Friday." The boys all grinned at this news. "I had thought we might get some pumpkins to carve, and maybe go to the movies on Sunday, but we do need to eat dinner, so I guess..." The boys' grins were fading a little at the thought of missing out on fun activities. Stuffing the money in his wallet, Scott continued sadly, "I just hope we aren't mistaken, and the casseroles were for us after all. I'd hate for your mom to come home and see them sitting in the fridge and think we didn't like them." 

Scott didn't have to look at Eddie to sense the boy's sudden change of heart. The 13 year-old was the biggest mama's boy Scott had ever known, and he knew even the thought of possibly hurting his mother's feelings by not eating her food would be more than he could stand. 

"Um..." Eddie thought of how to backtrack without letting on that he had lied. "I guess we can eat the food Mom left, and she can make something else for the potluck. If they're even back in time on Sunday!" 

"Yeah!" Cutter chimed in, supporting his brother. "They probably won't even be back in time for the potluck, so we might as well eat this stuff, and save our money for the pumpkins and stuff." 

"Tuna casserole first?" James suggested. 

Jeff was the only one not entirely following this change of plans, and was pouting at losing out on pizza. "I want pizza!" 

"Wouldn't you rather go to the movies on Sunday?" Eddie asked. 

Jeff, of course, wanted to do both. "How much is pizza?" 

"A lot, for two of them," Scott said, picking Jeff up and carrying him to the kitchen on his hip. "How about you help me with dinner, and if there's any money left on Sunday we can get popcorn at the movies?" 

"Candy at the movies!" Jeff countered. "We can have popcorn here!" 

The other boys nodded their agreement. Scott laughed. "Alright, candy at the movies. Eddie, would you please set the table?" 

Thwarted in his first attempt to tweak Scott, Eddie decided to try again. "Let's eat on the sofas while we watch TV. Mom and Dad let us!" 

Scott knew that wasn't true, having been a guest in their home on many, many occasions. He was tempted to give in on this one, and if it was just something like the mentioned popcorn, or sandwiches, he might have. However, he knew the likelihood of getting all three younger boys through a meal without any of them spilling anything or knocking a glass over was next to nil, and he didn't want to have to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Lofton how milk got spilled between the cushions of their leather sofas. 

Scott grinned at the younger boy. "Dinner in the kitchen, popcorn in the family room later, okay?" 

"Alright," Eddie said, turning away before giving in to his urge to scowl. Then his face brightening again he suggested, "Hey, let's sit at the family room table!" 

"Okay," Scott conceded. That would be safe enough. 

Dinner was ready in no time and the five boys all made quick work of the tuna casserole and the accompanying salad that Scott found in the fridge just beyond the casserole, ready to be served. The younger boys didn't eat much salad so their babysitter had an extra big helping so it wouldn't go to waste. 

The rest of the evening passed more or less uneventfully, at least until bedtime. Eddie tried to find new ways to tweak Scott, but the older boy was so accommodating and, well, so nice, that he had trouble coming up with things. Scott had done the dishes himself, and made the promised popcorn. He had even agreed to play Monopoly with them. Jeff scrunched up his face in distaste at the prospect of playing Monopoly, but they let him have the dog so he was content at first. Then he got out his Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker action figures and played with them on the floor next to the coffee table, only looking up when it was his turn to play. Eventually Darth Vader migrated to the table, replacing the dog in the game, and Jeff growled his every word, doing his best Darth Vader impression. That led to a case of the sillies for all three of the youngest boys until finally the Monopoly game was abandoned and they started roughhousing. Scott jumped into the action, mostly as a peacekeeper keeping any one little boy from being piled on unfairly, but doing his own share of tickling and tossing them over his shoulder. He thought that would wear them out... silly Scott. Rather than wearing them out, the activity just got them wound up even further. 

Bedtimes came and went, until finally Scott noticed it was 9:15, way past Jeff's 7:00 bedtime and James and Cutter's 8:00 one. Eddie's wasn't until 9:30, but Scott figured he could start getting ready. "Wow, bedtime," he said. "Past bedtime! Everyone upstairs." 

Eddie perked up at this. "We don't have bedtimes on Friday night!" 

"You say that with such a straight face," Scott said with a laugh, deciding to call the boy on his lie. 

"It's true!" he protested, looking at his younger brothers to chime in. 

Cutter was game. "Yeah, it's true! Friday and Saturday nights we get to stay up til midnight!" 

"Sure you do. Come on, off to bed." 

Apparently that was the signal for Jeff and James to start a game of tag, one which Cutter soon joined. Scott made a grab for an arm here and there as the small bodies ran past, but he was unsuccessful. Eddie just looked on with glee. About 9:30 Scott had had enough. "That's enough!" he said, loudly. "Everyone to bed now!" 

Something in the timbre of his voice got through to the boys and they scampered upstairs. They obediently brushed their teeth, put on their pajamas, used the toilet, listened to several bedtime stories... then jumped out of bed again and ran back and forth between rooms giggling, before running downstairs playing human keep away from Scott. The boys figured they were safe. Sure, John would have spanked them in the same situation - no, John wouldn't have gotten in this situation to begin with. He would have put them to bed at their normal bedtime in his no-nonsense way. Scott, though? He wasn't their older brother! There wasn't a thing he could do to make them behave! And with their parents still two days out from coming home, the thought of being in trouble with them was far off. Finally Scott managed to snag Jeff and carried the little boy to his room and plunked him down in bed. 

"Stay there!" he ordered, but of course as soon as his back was turned, Jeff was up and out of bed again. 

Finally, at 10:25, when Jeff, James and Cutter were jumping on the family room furniture, evading Scott, with Eddie occasionally 'happening' to run interference to keep his little brothers from their babysitter's grasp, Scott threw up his hands. "I give up!" he loudly exclaimed. The boys continued jumping on the sofas but quietened down as their babysitter went for the phone. 

Seeming to ignore the boys, Scott turned his back on them and dialed. The three little boys finally quit their leaping around in order to listen in. 

"Who's he calling?" James whispered. 

"I dunno," Cutter replied. 

"Is he calling Mommy and Daddy?" Jeff wanted to know, falling to his knees on the sofa and looking over the back at their tall babysitter. 

"I dunno!" Cutter repeated. 

Scott, meanwhile, still pretended not to hear the hushed whispers behind him. "Hello, Dad?" 

"He called the sheriff?!" James exclaimed with a squeak, dropping to his own knees beside Jeff. 

"Nooo!" Jeff cried. "I don't want to go to jail!" 

"We're not going to jail, dummy," Cutter said. 

"Shhh..." Eddie said, waving a hand to shut his brothers up, craning to hear the one-sided conversation. 

"Yeah, I can't get them to go to bed!... I know it's late... yeah, but I've tried everything. Even half a dozen bedtime stories didn't work. I just don't know what to do..." Scott smirked into the phone at the sudden silence behind him. "What? Spank them?" 

The three youngest boys gasped at the same time. Scott spank them? What?! No!! Jeff was the first to leave the sofa, scampering upstairs as fast as he could. 

"Are you sure?" Scott continued. "Mhm... mhm... well, I guess if you say it's okay, I guess their parents will be okay with it... oh, they did? Okay... I guess I'll spank them all and hopefully that will encourage them to go to bed now. Thanks, Dad!" 

When Scott turned around, it was to an empty family room, and blessed silence from upstairs.

**Saturday, October 22**

Saturday morning the crew slept in late, nearly missing _The Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner Show_. Luckily Jeff got up in time to see a few cartoons, or his day would have been ruined! After a leisurely breakfast of cereal at the family room table Jeff and James played in their room while Cutter rode his bike around outside. Eddie watched TV, his history book from school open beside him in case Scott decided to try assigning him any chores. If that happened, he would quickly claim mountains of homework to do!

That afternoon Scott gathered everyone for a trip to town to buy pumpkins. The boys were all excited to carve jack-a-lanterns, though Eddie pretended he was too old for such things. They went to Murphy's, one of Jackson's two grocery stores, and found a variety of pumpkins outside the store. 

"I want the biggest one!" James announced, running to the pumpkin anchoring the entire display. Four-feet in diameter, the largest pumpkin had a small stuffed scarecrow straddling it. 

"You can have whatever you can carry," Scott said, giving the monstrosity a doubtful look. 

"Why not whatever _you_ can carry?" Cutter countered with a grin. 

"Cos I can't carry four of them, you'll have to carry your own." 

James gave the gigantic pumpkin a worthy try, grunting with the effort and knocking the scarecrow off in the process, but finally admitted defeat and started looking at smaller ones. 

"Do we really get to cut them?" Jeff asked. He wasn't even allowed to use a knife at the dinner table yet. 

"You can draw yours, and Eddie or I will cut it out for you," Scott said. "That goes for the two of you, too," he added, looking at James and Cutter. 

"Aww, that's no fun," Cutter protested. "I can cut my own!" 

"You can scoop it out," Scott offered, and immediately started looking through the pumpkins, leaving Cutter to work out whether scooping out the messy insides of the pumpkin was as important as carving the face. 

"How about this one?" James asked, holding up a small, perfect specimen. 

"Is it squishy anywhere?" Scott asked. 

The boy turned it every which way in his hands and said, "Nope." 

"That's a good one, then." 

"I want this one!" Jeff said, finding the smallest pumpkin, only about 4 inches in diameter. 

"That's not big enough to carve," Cutter scoffed. 

"Is too!" 

"Maybe it can be an extra one," Eddie suggested. "Like for decoration." 

"They're all for decoration," Cutter said. He was in a contrary mood. 

"Find another one, Jeff," James said. "I'll help." 

"No! I want this one." 

Eddie and Scott looked at each other and shrugged. "We don't have to cut it," Scott said. "He can just draw on it." 

"I don't want to draw on it. My perfect little pumpkin," Jeff said, holding it up at eye level and smiling. 

Cutter rolled his eyes. "It's not a pet." 

"Hey, it can be my pet! My pet pumpkin!" 

"Great," Cutter said. "First pet rocks and now pet pumpkins!" 

Despite all the back-and-forth, soon all of the boys found suitable pumpkins. 

"Aren't you getting one?" James asked Scott. 

"No, I figure I'll have enough to do with carving yours," the babysitter replied. Plus he didn't think he should really be spending the money on a pumpkin for himself. He led the way inside and paid for all of the pumpkins after they'd been weighed, then the boys all headed outside. 

As they neared their car, the sheriff's car pulled into the parking lot and came alongside them. "Hey, boys," Sheriff Marks greeted them with a smile. 

"Hi, Dad," Scott said. 

All of the Lofton boys were suddenly tongue-tied, though Eddie managed to squeak out a hello. Jeff hid behind Scott. The sheriff was a little confused, wondering why the boys suddenly seemed wary around him, but didn't think on it too long. "Going to do some pumpkin carving?" he asked. 

"Yeah," Scott said, amused at how the boys were reacting to the presence of the sheriff. He'd have to explain it to his dad later. "Say, can you show them how the lights work?" He knew that would get them over their shyness. 

"Sure," his father said, parking beside them. He started flashing the lights on his vehicle, and soon the kids had forgotten all about the previous night's phone call. They each got a chance to work the lights, and were considerably cheered up by the time they piled into their own car to return home. 

It was a crisp October day, a little cold for carving pumpkins outside, but Scott still thought that was preferable to making a mess in the kitchen. So they set up shop out on the back porch. The three youngest boys were given pens and told to draw the faces on their pumpkins so Scott and Eddie could carve them. Eddie just started in carving his own, only to realize halfway through that it might have been a good idea to draw something on the smooth surface first. 

"What's wrong?" Scott asked as Eddie frowned at his half-done project. 

"It's all lopsided." 

"That's okay," Scott said. "Jack-a-lanterns can be scary or silly or nice. There's no wrong way to do it." 

Eddie didn't entirely believe that. Amateurish – that's what his looked like, and that hadn't been on Scott's list of acceptable things. All the same, the words made him feel slightly better and he continued on. 

James and Cutter drew their faces with great intensity. James went for a silly face, while Cutter tried for scary. Jeff had his back turned to everyone and was dutifully drawing away. 

James held his up for everyone to see. "I'm done!" 

"That's great!" Scott said, and James beamed. "Want me to carve it?" 

"Okay." James handed his pumpkin to Scott, who started carving it on top of a bunch of spread out newspapers. 

Soon Eddie was carefully carving Cutter's, and both younger boys watched as their jack-o-lanterns took shape, offering comments and 'helpful' suggestions on how to wield the knives, which the older boys ignored. 

"How's yours coming along, Jeff?" Scott asked, for the littlest Lofton still had his back to everyone. 

"Hmm?" came the distracted reply. 

"Show us your pumpkin!" Cutter demanded. 

Jeff lifted his little pumpkin over his head so they could see. 

"You didn't draw anything on it!" James said. 

"I told you I didn't want to! It's perfect already!" 

Getting a bad feeling, Scott asked, "So what have you been drawing?" 

The little boy suddenly dropped onto his tummy on the porch. "Nothing!" 

"Let's see," Eddie said. 

"No!" Jeff wiggled further away, covering something up. 

Scott laid down his knife where it would be safely out of the way, stood up and crossed over to Jeff. He picked up the 6 year-old who started protesting and kicking. "Jeffrey!" Scott exclaimed, seeing what the boy had been hiding. 

"Jeff!" Eddie said, also in shock. 

Jeff had spent the last half hour doodling on the porch floorboards with his black Sharpie. 

"Ooh, you're in trouble!" Cutter said, whistling. 

"What is that?" James asked, turning his head to make out what the picture was. 

"Doesn't matter," Eddie said. "Dad's gonna be mad when he sees what you did." 

"You're gonna get spanked," Cutter said helpfully. 

"No!" Jeff repeated, kicking even more to get down. 

"Yup!" Cutter said, grinning. "Probably with the hairbrush even!" 

"No, he won't," James said, glaring at his older brother for teasing Jeff. "He's too little for that. Just cos you got spanked with the hairbrush doesn't mean he will!" 

"Jeffrey Lofton," Scott said. "Why on Earth did you do that? You're old enough to know better." 

Jeff suddenly stopped kicking, burst into tears, and clung to Scott. Burying his head in Scott's shirt he said, "I don't want to get in t-trouble." 

"Too late for that!" Cutter gleefully said. Scott gave him a warning look to say that he wasn't really being all that helpful. 

Scott filed Jeff's behavior away under 'of course a 6 year-old will draw on something inappropriate given the chance, why did I even ask for an explanation' and instead wondered how much trouble he himself would be in. He was supposed to be supervising, after all.

"Wait, I think we have leftover paint in the garage!" Eddie dashed off to the garage while Scott patted a thumb-sucking Jeff on the back, soothing the little boy. 

James's pumpkin was all carved, so he started scooping out the insides while they waited for Eddie's return. Cutter, meanwhile, picked up Eddie's abandoned knife and resumed work on his own pumpkin. 

In no time Eddie ran back to the porch carrying a paint can and brush, grinning at his success. "I knew we had some!" 

"Fantastic," Scott said. "See, Jeff, it's going to be okay." 

"Cutter!" Eddie exclaimed, seeing what his younger brother was doing. "You're not supposed to be doing that." 

Cutter scoffed but handed over the knife. Eddie shot Scott an incredulous look, wondering why his parents had bothered getting a babysitter. Fat lot of good Scott was doing! He let Jeff scribble all over the porch and hadn't even noticed Cutter was carving away with the paring knife! His parents should have just left _him_ in charge! 

Scott didn't notice Eddie's disdain, or chose to ignore it if he did. He set a calmed Jeff back down, giving the boy a firm pat on the behind, one that was just shy of being a swat. "Jeff, grab a plastic bowl from the kitchen, and you can pick out the pumpkin seeds." 

"How come?" Jeff asked. 

"We can bake them with butter and salt. They're really good that way." 

"Okay!" Jeff ran off to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a Tupperware bowl. He reached into the glop James was scooping from his pumpkin, shuddering at the sliminess and giggling. "Yuck!" 

While he was occupied, Scott asked Eddie to paint over Jeff's artwork while he finished carving Cutter's pumpkin. All of their individual projects ended at about the same time, and as they cleaned up Scott breathed a sigh of relief. They had survived the afternoon! 

"Can we light them up?" Cutter asked, surveying the range of carved pumpkins that they had moved to the front porch. 

"Let's save that for when you show your parents," Scott said, thinking the way things were going he didn't want to add fire into the day's activities! "Let's go inside and rinse out the seeds, then we can bake them!" 

A few hours later the kids were all watching TV, oodles of pumpkin seeds in a bowl on the coffee table in front of them, snacks following their heated-up enchilada suppers. James and Cutter had started a seed spitting contest, but Scott had stopped that right away and now they were just watching _Gomer Pyle, USMC_. Scott was glad for the relative calm and hoped that the boys would go to bed willingly this time. He wasn't going to send Jeff off until 7:30, and James and Cutter until 8:30. Hopefully the boys would think that slight delay in their bedtimes would be satisfactory enough. Glancing at Jeff he noticed the little boy was kind of a mess. A scattering of pen smudges on his hands and arms; dried pumpkin glop on his face and clothes. Hmm... he supposed the boys really should take a bath. Scott hadn't paid much attention to the bathing routines of the boys on his prior visits. Did they take baths or had they graduated to showers? Did they do it themselves or did they need help? He looked over at Cutter and James, confident the middle boys were old enough to take care of themselves. Jeff, though... 

As soon as the TV show ended at 7:30, Scott stood and scooped up Jeff, carrying him to the stairs. "Bath time!" he said optimistically, hoping the little one wouldn't fight him. 

Jeff, for his part, was surprisingly compliant. He knew he deserved a spanking for scribbling on the porch, but he hadn't been able to help himself. The light blue painted wood had provided the perfect surface for the Sharpie and without even a second thought he had found himself drawing. Eddie had fixed it, though, and his parents would never know, and all the excitement and emotions of the afternoon had worn him out. So when his babysitter plucked him up and carried him to the bathroom, Jeff didn't bother protesting. Truthfully he felt kind of gross and sticky anyway. 

"Do you take a bath or shower?" Scott asked as he undressed the little boy. 

"Bath." 

"Does your Mom wash you?" 

"Yes, or John, or Eddie." 

"Do you want me to wash you? I can get Eddie if you prefer." 

Jeff considered, lifting a leg to step out of his jeans. "Umm... Eddie." He didn't mind Scott bathing him; the little boy felt no embarrassment about being naked in front of John's friend. Eddie was just familiar, and right then Jeff wanted familiar. 

Scott started the water running and called for Eddie from the top of the staircase. Eddie rolled his eyes at Scott's incompetence – seriously, couldn't he even give a 6 year-old a bath?! - but headed upstairs. He quickly bathed his youngest brother while Scott got clean pajamas from Jeff's dresser. As soon as he pulled the plug to drain the bathwater, however, Eddie considered his job done and left the babysitter to wrap Jeff in the green towel with appliqued frogs. Scott towel-dried Jeff's golden-brown hair and dressed him in his pajamas. 

"One bedtime story," Scott said as he followed Jeff to his room. Jeff knelt in front of his bookcase looking through all of his and James's books, until Scott recognized it for the stalling technique it was and helped select one. Finally, story read, Jeff settled down with his stuffed dog under one arm and Scott closed the door. One down, three to go. 

Hearing secretive noises coming from the direction of the kitchen, Scott went down the back staircase and found the other boys had opened a bag of marshmallows. James and Eddie immediately pulled their hands out of the bag, but Cutter just gave an innocent little smile. 

"No marshmallows," Scott said. "You all have had enough fun stuff to eat today." He grabbed the bag, twisting it, and set it in the pantry. Trusting the boys would soon follow, he headed back to the family room. 

Scott had just sat down when there came a frantic shout from the kitchen. "Scott!" 

Scott froze for a split second, then sprang into action. He ran back to the kitchen where he was met by three panicked boys.  
"He's choking!" Eddie said, holding Cutter lightly by one arm, not knowing what to do. He pushed his wide-eyed little brother towards Scott while James shrank away in fright at the situation. 

Scott approached the 9 year-old. "Can you breathe?" he asked quickly.

Cutter shook his head, eyes growing even wider at the helpless feeling. 

"Did you swallow a marshmallow?" 

A nod. 

Scott took Cutter from Eddie, spun him around, and performed the Heimlich maneuver on him. Just one abdominal thrust was all it took to dislodge the marshmallow, which flew out of Cutter's mouth and onto the floor. Cutter gasped for air. Scott pulled a chair away from the table and sat down, his legs weak from the sudden scare and the relief that it had worked. His dad had only recently been trained on the Heimlich maneuver, and he had taken the opportunity to teach his son as well. Was Scott ever grateful! He never thought he would need it. He gently pulled the teary boy to stand between his legs and held him lightly until his trembling stopped. When he thought the 9 year-old could talk again, he asked, "What happened?" 

"I had just put it in my mouth, and I-I swallowed it when you came downstairs." 

"Hiding it?" Scott asked sternly. 

Cutter looked down and nodded. He'd been startled when Scott had suddenly appeared, and without even thinking about it swallowed the marshmallow to hide the evidence of his wrongdoing. Without another word, Scott turned him slightly and gave him a single hard swat to the behind, then pulled him into another hug while the boy cried. Eddie had James in a backwards hug and they both had teary eyes too. 

Soft footsteps came down the back staircase, and Jeff hesitated at the last one. "What's going on?" he asked in a small, worried voice. 

"Everything's okay now," Scott said. "Cutter just had a scare is all." 

Such was Cutter's relief that he didn't react to that, or to Jeff's bewildered question, "Cutter was scared?" 

"Yeah, but he's okay now," Scott said. He picked up Cutter, held a hand out to Jeff, and led all the boys back to the family room. Cutter sat on his lap, making it the first time ever for that that Scott could remember, and all the other boys gathered close. They watched TV another half hour just recovering from their fright, then Scott announced it was Jeff's bedtime (again), and time for James and Cutter to shower and go to bed. 

Eddie remained downstairs while a subdued group of boys ascended the stairs. Jeff went right away to bed, while James and Cutter showered, then crawled into their own beds. Scott read another story to Jeff and James, then went in to tuck Cutter in. 

"Thank you," the boy whispered. 

"You're welcome. Don't do it again, okay? You scared me half to death." 

Cutter whimpered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just got scared and did it." 

"I know." Scott brushed the boy's hair back. "You're okay, now." The last was almost a question, and he was relieved when Cutter nodded. "Okay. Go to sleep. We're going to the movies tomorrow." That got a small smile in reply, and the babysitter turned off the light and returned downstairs. 

Eddie was watching TV and doing some thinking. He had never been so scared as when he realized his little brother was choking! Maybe during the tornado. But this was different. He knew Cutter had already popped the marshmallow into his mouth but he didn't realize his little brother had swallowed it. It wasn't until Scott had left the kitchen that Cutter had suddenly turned to Eddie, realizing he couldn't swallow it and couldn't breathe. Eddie had panicked and not knowing what else to do, yelled for Scott. He was so glad Scott was there! He could have lost his little brother! He took a deep breath to stop tears forming again, and watched as the babysitter returned to the family room. 

Scott sank into the sofa and turned to Eddie with a small smile. "Well, that was some excitement tonight, huh?" 

"Yeah," Eddie agreed nodding. Swallowing hard he said, "Scott?" 

"Yeah?" 

Drawing his knees up to his chest Eddie said, "I'm glad you were here." 

Scott looked at the younger boy, taking in the drawn expression and the regret in his eyes. "Me too," he quietly said. He put an arm out, and Eddie scooted over and under it, feeling forgiven.

**Sunday, October 23rd**

Sunday, finally, blessedly, was uneventful. Scott took the boys to the movies, unanimously deciding to see _Star Wars_ again, and sitting through the show twice. James and Cutter started a popcorn war with a couple of their friends a few rows ahead of them, but Scott ended that by taking their bag away and threatening to take their candy away too. Jeff ate an entire bag of licorice all by himself and was having a sugar fit as they drove home. Scott heated up some of the leftover tuna casserole and fed it to the boys, and by the time Mr. and Mrs. Lofton and John pulled up to the house Sunday night, Jeff's sugar high had turned into a sugar drop.

The three oldest Loftons bustled into the house bringing with them the cool air from outside along with their happy chatter. "How was your weekend?" Mrs. Lofton asked the group of boys who had gotten up from the sofas to greet them. 

The younger boys hesitated, looking as one to their babysitter to see what he would say. Would he tell about their naughtiness in not going to bed Friday night? Jeff's defacing the porch floor? Cutter's near-death experience? 

"It was great," Scott said, reaching down and picking up Jeff, hefting him in his arms. 

"Wonderful!" Susanna said, taking Jeff from the teen and hugging him. 

Her husband was suspicious, not believing the boys hadn't given their babysitter any trouble at all for an entire weekend, but remained silent. Apparently nothing had happened that Scott couldn't handle. "Come on," he said, "Let's settle up." Scott followed Russell to the study where he got paid, then he went upstairs with John to hear all about the University of Colorado. 

Eddie joined his mother and Jeff in the kitchen. "So was it as bad as you thought it might be?" she asked. 

"Um... not, not really. Actually, I was kind of glad he was here," Eddie admitted.


	11. Thanksgiving Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short story about a Thanksgiving with the Loftons in 1975. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! (It's still Thanksgiving in my time zone ;-))

John 15, Eddie 11, Cutter 7, James 6, Jeff 4, Jenny 9 months

**Thanksgiving, November 27 th, 1975**

Thanksgiving, 1975. The whole extended family was gathered at Grandma and Grandpa Lofton's home: Susanna and Russell and their five sons; Mary and Joss and their 9 month-old daughter Jenny; and Susanna and Mary's recently widowed mother, Grandma Thomsen. The four women shooed the men out of the kitchen and spent the better part of the day cooking and baking and looking after little Jenny. Throughout the day the younger boys found lots of reasons why they absolutely needed to go into the kitchen – and every time they did one of the grandmothers would slip them a piece of pie dough or other little treat. 

Grandma and Grandpa Lofton's house was no longer as child-friendly as when Russell was growing up, and now delicate knickknacks sprung from every possible surface. Russell had already interrupted one game of keep away between Cutter and James, with poor Jeff in the center, catching the rubber ball as it flew through the air towards a glass hutch. After that near-miss he had rounded up all the boys and taken them outside until dinnertime. 

At quarter to two everyone was called inside to wash up and dress for the Thanksgiving feast. Play clothes were replaced with Sunday clothes. Thanksgiving at the Loftons' was a formal affair. The long dining table held both extensions, and was festively arranged with formal place settings. Fine bone china, real silverware, even for the children. Susanna suggested that Jeff at least would be more comfortable with the everyday Melmac plates, but Grandma Lofton told her not to worry, dishes were for using. Susanna still worried, of course. 

Right at 2:00 everyone gathered in the dining room and sat at their assigned place at the table, dressed in their nice clothes. The Lofton boys all thought such fuss was unnecessary. Why get dressed up on a Thursday just to sit at a table and eat? Wisely, none of them made their feelings known. Grandpa Lofton, sitting at the head of the table, led the family in a long Thanksgiving prayer, thanking God for each of his family members and asking for His blessings on their food. Then Grandma Lofton and Grandma Thomsen disappeared into the kitchen and took turns reappearing at the doorway with one of the side dishes. Homemade rolls, cranberry sauce, candied sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, green beans with almonds, dressing. One by one the dishes appeared at the table and were set at Grandpa Lofton's place. Plates passed back and forth as Grandpa dished up everyone's food. More fuss that the Lofton boys could have done without. 

"This is taking forever!" Cutter griped in a whisper to John.

"I know," he whispered back. "But it's tradition. Shh..."

Both boys quietened at a look from their father. A look of understanding and agreement, but also one that said 'we're in Grandma and Grandpa's house and this is their tradition, so behave yourselves while we follow it'. 

At long last it was time for the turkey to make its grand appearance. Finally! James poked one finger in his mashed potatoes to test the temperature and was dismayed to find they were already getting cold. His mother shook her head slightly, and he sucked his finger to clean it off. 

"Harold!" came a sudden astonished cry from the kitchen. 

"What is it, Ethel?" Grandpa Lofton called back, looking ready to dash into the kitchen to put out a fire.

"Something's happened to the turkey!" Grandma Lofton replied. 

Grandma Thomsen appeared in the doorway, nodding her agreement that something indeed had happened to the turkey.

"Well, it can't be too bad," Grandpa Lofton decided. "Bring it out, I'm sure it's wonderful!"

Every eye was on the doorway to the kitchen while every ear strained to hear the quiet frantic murmurings between the two grandmothers. Then all fell silent and a moment later Grandma Lofton appeared in the doorway, Grandma Thomsen hovering just behind her. 

"It shrank!" Grandma Lofton said. And sure enough, at the center of the huge turkey platter was... a tiny turkey. The centerpiece of the meal had turned into a tiny turkey mere inches long! The gathered relatives exclaimed at the sight, and the younger boys all wondered aloud what could have happened to it. 

Harold peered over at the little bird and raised his arms to calm everyone down. "Now... now... it's fine. We've prayed over it and asked God to bless it, and we'll be grateful for what we have." His wife brought the platter over to him and with a great show he began to carve it. It didn't take long, but it did take precision. Somehow, he managed to carve a tiny piece of meat for everyone at the table! John was a bit suspicious, but the younger boys just watched in amazement and dismay. After smelling the turkey cooking all morning (at least until they got kicked outside), a tiny sliver was all they were getting?

"Is this all we get?" Cutter asked, and again his older brother hushed him.

Once everyone's plate was back in front of them, Grandpa Lofton raised his fork in the sign to begin eating. After approximately two bites, all of the turkey was gone, but the family gamely started in on the rest of their meal. A few minutes later Grandma Lofton shook her head sadly and retrieved the platter. Its presence on the table was a sad reminder of the calamity of the turkey. Saying, "I'll just see if I can't get something more off of the bones," she carried it back into the kitchen.

The adults made conversation while Eddie and James pouted at the lack of turkey. Cutter played with his candied sweet potatoes, trying to hide them under his knife. He hadn't wanted any! Grandpa had dished up his food, however, so he wasn't even given a choice. John noticed what he was up to, however, and started stealing the potatoes off his little brother's plate. Cutter grinned, uncovering them to give John better access. John didn't particularly care for them either, but at least he could tolerate them and he knew they were expected to empty their plates.

Just then they heard a happy cry of surprise from the kitchen. "Harold! It's a miracle!"

All eyes again traveled to the doorway where Grandma Lofton appeared with the platter, this time laden with carved turkey meat! "I started cutting it off the bones, and it just kept coming and coming and now look!" She proudly set the platter down in front of Grandpa Lofton as everyone oohed and aahed at the full plate of roast turkey.

"I prayed there would be enough!" Jeff happily piped up from the far end of the table, and everyone laughed. 

This time Grandpa Lofton carried the platter around and held it while everyone helped themselves. 

At the end of the meal as the last of the dishes were being dried, John and Eddie quietly sought out their grandmother. "So, what was it really?" John asked.

With a twinkle in her eye, Grandma Lofton replied, "A quail that your grandfather shot this morning!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Thanksgiving prank repeated every generation in my family. It started when my great-grandfather shot a quail one Thanksgiving morning. Apparently the Thanksgiving feast was stuffy and formal and my great-grandfather actually did dish up everyone's food. Which was probably about 30 guests at the time considering all his kids and grandkids. I thought it would be fun if the Lofton boys got to participate too. Hope you liked it! :)


	12. The Christmas Gift Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family's last Christmas together, and a long-held secret is shared.

Christmas Eve, 1982

John 22, Eddie 18, Cutter 14, James 13, Jeff 11

It was Christmas Eve, and the Lofton family was at the early service at church. The boys were all too old to participate in the nativity scene this year, but they were watching from the pews as the younger children of the congregation took part. Cutter and James predictably got the giggles midway through the nativity play. One of the shepherds had decided to take his job a little too seriously and tried to herd his sheep across the stage. The toddler sheep weren't having it, and scattered to all sides of the manger scene. 

Russell and Susanna exchanged meaningful glances. Next year they were going to the later candlelight service! Jeff would be 12 then, that was plenty old enough to stay up for an 11:00 service. As for now... Russell nudged his middle son and gave a stern look at James, who was sitting just out of reach. Both boys straightened up, but after half a second a fresh wave of giggles struck Cutter. His dad reached out and placed a hand firmly on his son's knee. He gave one squeeze then left his hand there. He didn't need to say a word or even look at his son. Cutter knew that was his last warning before being taken out of the service. Something that happened to  _children_! It hadn't happened to him since he was about eight. It had happened to Jeff just the previous year, so he knew it was still a possibility. Once out of the sanctuary – the 14 year-old reddened slightly at the mere thought of being taken out to the car and spanked. He would die if anyone witnessed that! Just the thought of it succeeded in finally sobering him enough that he could watch the rest of the nativity play without giggling. It was a bit touch and go again when one of the sheep crawled off the stage and back to her mother who was sitting in the second row (baa-ing all the while), but he carefully avoided looking at James and managed to survive that moment. In all fairness, he thought, half the congregation was good-naturedly laughing at the children in the nativity play – it wasn't his fault that his parents wanted him to behave with decorum in church!

The play ended and the organ began playing a Christmas carol. Everyone in the congregation stood to sing, and as the woman in the row ahead of them stood, her skirt fell down, leaving her standing in her white slip. She immediately sat down again, pulling her skirt up and over her slip, but it was too much for Cutter in his on-the-edge-of-laughter state. He let out a snort, and out of the corner of his eye caught his father look down at him in a flash of annoyance, and jumped up and dashed down the aisle. He left the narthex behind and ran out to the parking lot, where he doubled over letting out his suppressed laughter. It lasted about three minutes, then he got control of himself, and in the still, cold night air, he finally came to his senses. Was he in trouble now? He'd essentially sent himself out of the service. That in itself probably meant he was in trouble, not to mention the reason he had. Still, his dad hadn't come after him, so maybe not? And it was better he had run out rather than call further attention to poor Mrs. Haglund and her slip, wasn't it? Surely that counted for something? Rats, why had he left his coat in the church? He shivered, but was way too embarrassed to go back in, especially since he thought he might be sent right back out again. Guessing the service was nearly over, he made his way back inside to wait in the narthex. 

Ten minutes he waited. Ten long minutes of listening to the congregation singing Christmas carols. By the time they ended with Silent Night, Cutter was feeling kind of sad and left out. As the service ended people filed out, in happy quietude after the last song, ready to go to their homes to begin their family celebrations. Cutter sat on a bench hoping to escape notice, and largely succeeded. When his own family came out he stood and sheepishly joined them, ducking his head so he wouldn't have to see his father's disapproval. John gave him a sympathetic smile. Well, more like a smirk, really. But it was friendly, and Cutter would take it. His mother came up, one arm around Jeff's shoulders, and put her other arm around her middle son. Cutter leaned into her, feeling a little better. 

Cutter tried to ride to the house with John in his Pinto, but Eddie beat him out to the parking lot, and his older two brothers took off. Sighing, he took his place in the backseat of the Cutlass Ciera with his younger brothers. Neither of his parents spoke of his behavior during the service, however. They made it home and Jeff and James ran into the house. Russell held his son back a little, allowing his wife to make it inside before them. 

"Brian," his dad said, one hand on his son's shoulder.

"Yessir?" Cutter asked, gulping. It was rare for his father to address him by his real name. 

"That was quite the performance you gave in church tonight," he said sternly.

"Yessir," he replied, looking down.

Russell twirled his finger, and Cutter obediently turned slightly, just far enough for his dad to give him one blistering swat to his behind. The young teen winced, and said, "Sorry, Dad."

"Poor Mrs. Haglund." Russell sighed, and his son finally looked up, prepared to see anger and disappointment on his father's face. He wasn't prepared for the slight twinkle in his eyes. "At least your untimely departure created a distraction. I think more people turned their heads to watch you leave than stayed on her. She was able to uh, fix her clothes without  _all_  eyes on her." Russell smiled, and Cutter grinned in relief. 

"I didn't mean to laugh. Not at her or the kids earlier."

"I know. It took a lot of willpower for me not to." Russell clapped his son on the shoulder and they joined the rest of the family inside the house. 

**..»º*º«..**

The Loftons had a simple supper of soup and cornbread, then gathered around the Christmas tree to unwrap presents. With seven people it took a long time, at least it did the way this family opened them! James played Santa, handing out gifts one by one to each family member, and everyone watched while everyone unwrapped his or her present before moving on to the next. Finally there remained just one present – one that Russell had secretly told James to leave for last. It was a smallish box with a great big envelope taped to the front. After making sure that no other presents remained under the tree, James picked up this special present and gave it to his mother. 

"From Dad," James said with a smile.

Susanna accepted the gift, giving her husband a wondering glance. The two of them didn't typically give each other more than one or two presents every year, saving their money for gifts for their sons. Russell had already given her a new coat and a pair of Black Hills gold earrings. 

Russell grinned at her expression, which clearly read 'what can this possibly be? You've already been more than extravagant this year!' "Just open it," he said.

"Should I open the card or the box first?" she asked.

"Oh... open the box first."

Jeff shuffled closer on his knees, eager to see what could be in this mysterious last box. Susanna smiled at him, and looked around at all of her men and boys watching her. Really, she didn't need any presents! She felt blessed every day just having this family of hers. 

Examining the box, she asked, "Is it breakable?"

"No," replied her husband, eyes twinkling.

She gave it a tentative shake and they heard a dull thudding clunk from inside. 

"Just open it!" Jeff said, wriggling in anticipation.

Susanna laughed. "Okay, okay." She carefully slid her fingernail along the seams of the paper to open the tape, and the paper fell off the box. It was just a plain white cardboard box. She opened one end and looked inside, then back at her husband. Tilting the box slightly, a pair of scissors fell out. Pinking shears, to be more specific. She already had a pair of pinking shears. Confused, she looked closer. No, _these_ were her pinking shears, complete with 'LOFTON' that she had written on the side of one of the blades years ago when she took them with her to a quilting class. Giving her husband a quizzical look, she said, "I don't understand."

"Open the card now."

Slight smile on her face, Susanna opened the card and silently read it to herself. Everyone waited with baited breath to find out what the card said, and to find out why she was being given her old pair of shears. "Oh, Russell," she finally said, her eyes filling with tears. 

"What does it say?" Cutter asked. He knew they were happy or at least sentimental tears, but he still hated to see his mother cry.

Handing the card to her middle son, Susanna suddenly laughed, and addressing her husband, said, "You stinker!"

Russell laughed, and crossed the room to embrace her. She kissed him and laughed again. 

"What's it say?" Jeff asked, crowding closer to Cutter to try to read the card.

Cutter elbowed his younger brother away. "Here, I'll read it." He sat back on his heels and lifted the card.

"Twenty-five years ago, on their first Christmas together, a young husband bought a gift for his young wife. They had just bought their dream house on a little farm, and didn't have money for Christmas gifts for each other. Not wanting her to worry about the money being spent, the husband wrapped up his gift and set it out Christmas morning so that his young bride would think it was from Santa. However, on Christmas day his parents arrived with a cascade of gifts, and this gift from Santa was mistakenly assumed to be from his parents! So now, after 25 years of marriage, it's time to come clean. I bought the pinking shears for you our first Christmas together."

The boys all looked at their parents, who were sitting together on the sofa gazing at each other, smiling and holding hands, remembering that long-ago Christmas, when it was just the two of them starting out. They had only been married a few months, and had just put all of their money into their new home, leaving them without money for anything else. Russell's parents had asked what they wanted for Christmas, so the two had compiled a wish list of sorts containing a variety of things. It was just to offer suggestions – they thought they might receive one or two items as gifts. Imagine their surprise and embarrassment when the older couple had arrived at the house having bought everything on the list! Susanna had been secretly mortified, thinking her new in-laws must think them the greediest people! The pair of pinking shears had made an appearance in the pile of gifts, and even though it hadn't been included on their wish list, she had assumed they came from Harold and Ethel Lofton. Her embarrassment at receiving everything on the list lasted until Russell was able to reassure her, hours after his parents' departure, that his parents could afford all the gifts they had given, he was sure it was their pleasure to be able to help the struggling young couple out, and they wouldn't have done it if they hadn't wanted to. 

The couple's happy reminiscing was interrupted by Jeff's sudden exclamation. "Daddy! You lied!"

His brothers all laughed, and Russell sheepishly admitted he had. Shrugging, he said, "It was going to be from Santa, and she would have known it came from me. Then in the cavalcade of gifts, Mom thought it was from Grandma and Grandpa. They didn't blow my cover, so..." He shrugged again, grinning at his boys and wife.

"Lie of omission," Cutter said, tsking and shaking his head. 

"Daddy," Jeff said, frowning. His pretend disapproval changed to giggles when Russell suddenly leaned down and started tickling him. James and Cutter got in on the action, and soon all the men and boys in the family were roughhousing.

Susanna rescued a few of the more delicate presents, getting them safely out of the way. Going into the kitchen to replenish the tray of gingerbread cookies, she stopped to look back at her family. Yes, she was truly blessed.

  **..»º*º«..** **..»º*º«..** **..»º*º«..**

I hope everyone had a great Christmas! I know this is a belated Christmas story. The inspiration for this one didn't come in time to write it before Christmas, and I didn't want to make you wait til next year :)

 


	13. The Racky Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short interlude about Racky's arrival in Ramsey's life.

**This one takes place immediately after the end of Autumn, and before the start of Winter. A true interlude...**

**Sunday, November 24th, 1984**

**Cutter**

 After rushing Ramsey to the hospital, it was a big long waiting game for my brothers and me. After the doctor talked to John my brother came back and told us we wouldn’t be able to see Ramsey again that evening, but could come back the next day after school. We left the hospital around 9:00, but we didn’t get to bed for a long time. Even though we all had to be up early for school and work the next day, my brothers and I just hung out in the family room a long time trying to figure out what had happened to Ramsey. I couldn’t believe his brother had broken his arm! And then to find out he’d been abused for a long time.

As I sat there on the sofa holding a cup of hot chocolate, I thought back over every single interaction I’d had with Ramsey since meeting him, looking for the clues I must have missed. Clues were everywhere now that I thought about everything all at once, such as his never having lunch. I thought he and his brothers were just poor, not that Carl wasn’t letting him eat. It made me even gladder that I’d shared my lunch with him, but I wish I had done more. And sometimes he had winced when he sat down. I knew what that meant, since I still got my own share of lickings. But it seemed like what he got from Carl was way worse than anything I’d ever gotten. More licks and a lot harder. I’d mostly ignored the sight of Ramsey in pain. I just figured he’d gotten in trouble, just like we all did sometimes, and would be embarrassed if I called attention to it.

“I should have seen it,” Jeff said, wiping his eyes. He was tucked into the crook of John’s arm on the other sofa and had been teary all evening.

“Me too,” I said.

“I think we’re all feeling guilty,” John said. “I should have gone to the sheriff when his hands were cut.”

“He hid it,” Eddie said, and we nodded. It was true. Ramsey had hid it as long as he could, lying and pretending everything was okay, until finally he couldn’t any more.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Jeff asked.

“Can he come stay here?” I asked. “We can keep him.”

James looked from me to Jeff, then back at John. “I like that idea.” James was probably thinking it would be great for Jeff, having a built-in friend in the house. My next-youngest brother and I had been spending more time together, and our youngest brother often got left out.

“We’ll see,” John said. “He might have relatives somewhere. We’ll find out more soon, I bet, and then we can figure out what’s going to happen.”

“But what if he doesn’t have relatives?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah, can we keep him if he doesn’t?” I asked. I didn’t like the thought of Ramsey just disappearing into foster care or a group home somewhere. He’d kind of grown on me.

“We’ll see,” John repeated, sighing. He looked tired. No, exhausted. After the adrenaline of the evening had worn off, I think we were all exhausted. “Let’s all try to go to bed now.”

 

**Monday, November 25th**

**Cutter**

 

Monday morning we were all quiet as we got ready for school, still tired and thinking about Ramsey.

“Can we go see him during lunch?” Jeff asked.

“Better wait until after school,” John said. He took out his wallet and pulled out three five dollar bills, giving one each to me and my younger brothers. Looking at me he said, “You all can stop at the drugstore and pick up something to cheer him up. Cards or balloons or magazines or something, alright?”

“Okay,” Jeff said, not even asking for more money for himself.

“Alright,” James said, stuffing it in his front pocket.

I said okay too, then ran back up to my room and grabbed all the money I had from my desk drawer, a ten and four ones.

James wanted to drive us to school, but there was snow on the road so I said I would. I dropped my brothers off and parked and went to my first period class. I couldn’t concentrate, though. I just kept picturing Ramsey standing in his front yard, crying and frantic and holding his broken arm. And now he was all alone in the hospital. No family to visit him. No friends except us, and we were stuck in school! I knew he had been sedated the night before while he was patched up, but surely he would be awake by now. I hated the thought of him being in the hospital all alone.

After my second class I snuck out to the parking lot, and drove to the hospital. I asked what room he was in, and went to the children’s floor and found his room. Ramsey was still asleep. I had imagined him all lonely in his room, which would have been bad enough, but it was even worse than I imagined. Ramsey lay in bed, his left arm in a cast on top of the sheets. He looked so young, small and broken. He _was_ broken. I quietly went in, figuring I would wake him up, but even in his sleep he looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hair pasted to his face. I glanced around his room, and it looked so empty. On my way to his room I’d noticed other people’s rooms, and they had more stuff. Flowers and balloons and books and visitors, and stuff belonging to the visitors.

I quietly left, returning to the gift shop on the ground floor. I didn’t know what I wanted to get. Just… stuff… so his room wouldn’t be so neglected. I had to hurry, too – no telling when he would wake up. I walked around, but everything was so expensive. I could get a lot more later on at the drugstore. I hated to leave him with an empty room, though, so I pushed on, determined to find _something_. I found myself in the kids’ section. There were lots of toys for little kids – games and coloring books and stuffed animals. The stuffed animals were mostly for little girls. Pink and sparkly things. I was about to give up and just get a helium balloon for now when I saw it in the corner, behind all the unicorns and kittens – a stuffed raccoon. John didn’t like real raccoons for some reason he wouldn’t talk about, but this one just seemed perfect for hugging. It had a big body and a big head, and was sticking out its tongue, and I could easily imagine Ramsey holding on to it. I went into the shop and grabbed the stuffed raccoon before anyone else could.  I carried it in one arm, and just as I suspected, it was perfect for hugging! Not that I was hugging it. I carried it around the gift shop, but decided to wait for afterschool to get anything else. The gift shop was expensive! The stuffed raccoon was only $12, though. I paid for it, and self-consciously carried it upstairs. It wasn’t until I was almost back to Ramsey’s room that I even wondered if he would like it. He was 14 – that was too old for a stuffed animal, wasn’t it? My own stuffed tiger had been living in my closet since I was like… 9. Still, lots of the other kids’ rooms in the hospital held lots of stuffed animals, so I’d take a chance.

Ramsey was still asleep. Feeling slightly silly but mostly awful, seeing him there so still and hurt, I walked up to the bed and freed his right arm from the covers, and carefully tucked the raccoon under it. It fit perfectly! I stood back, and just then Ramsey’s eyes fluttered and he woke up. He stretched, or started to, then stopped. “Owww,” he said, stopping to look around. He took in the room in a glance, and I wished I had already gotten some balloons or something to liven it up. He looked at his left arm in its cast, then his right arm around the raccoon, then up to me.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” I said quietly back.

“Am I in the hospital?”

“Yes. You don’t remember?”

“Kind of.” He frowned and tried to move his left arm and winced again.

“Do you need the nurse?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll get someone.” I started for the door, but he called me back.

“Don’t go, Cutter,” he pleaded.

“I’m just getting a nurse. You’re in pain.”

“I can take it,” he said.

I frowned. “You don’t have to. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” ‘Stay there’ – that was a silly thing to say. But I ran out and got a nurse, and she came in and talked to him and gave him some medicine then left again.

I sat beside him. He had pulled the raccoon from under his arm while she was in there, and now had it on his chest. He looked at it, touching the plastic eyes, feeling the ears, and curling the tail. “Where did this come from?”

“I got it,” I said, a little embarrassed, and again thinking it was a mistake to get a stuffed animal for a 14 year-old boy. “I thought you might like something to hold on to.”

Ramsey smiled shyly. “Thank you. I love it.” He tucked it under his arm again.

“Are you going to name it?”

“Is… is that something people do?”

According to Tommy Tiger in my closet, yes. I nodded.

“Hmm… Raccoon… Raccoony… Racky the Raccoon. Racky.” He looked from the raccoon up to me to see if I liked it.

“Racky, I like it,” I said.

“I never had one before. Thanks, Cutter.” He settled back in his bed again, yawning. “Don’t you have school?”

“I skipped a class or two,” I said, grinning.

“Oh, you did, did you?” said a gentle, amused voice behind me, and Ramsey’s eyes widened.

“Um, yeah,” I said, turning to face my oldest brother. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still only 11:10. “What are _you_ doing here?” I asked. It wasn’t his lunchtime yet.

John grinned. “Same as you. Hi, Ramsey, how are you doing?”

Ramsey tried to sit up a little, but John waved him back down. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “Look what Cutter got me.” He held Racky up a little and told John its name.

“Pretty neat,” John said, turning smiling eyes on me. John had brought some magazines and some flowers.

“Flowers?” Ramsey asked. “They’re pretty. Thanks, John.” Looking down at Racky, he quietly asked about Carl, and John said the sheriff took him away. Ramsey nodded and some of the stress eased from around his eyes. He lay back again, arm around Racky, and we all chatted a while. Not about anything important. Nothing else about Carl or what had happened or would might happen next. Just cheering Ramsey up and distracting him. He was pretty quiet and acted shy around John. After about fifteen minutes he started squirming and looked towards the bathroom in the corner of the room.

“Do you have to go?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Need help?”

“No!” But then he tried to get out of bed and nearly cried when he bumped his left arm. “Ow-ow-oww!” he hissed.

John swooped in and got him untangled from the covers and gently lifted him off the bed, setting him on the floor. Ramsey sat Racky on the bed and swayed a little, grabbing on to John’s arm for balance. “I’m kinda dizzy.”

“Here, I’ll just walk you over, okay?”

John walked him over, or started to, then Ramsey made an unpleasant discovery. Stopping suddenly, Ramsey reached around with his right arm where the back flaps of the hospital gown were swinging open. “I don’t have any underwear on! Why’d they take it?”

Probably because it was bloody and ruined. John matter-of-factly pointed out, “Bet you’re more comfortable without it for now, huh?”

All embarrassed, Ramsey admitted he was, and let my brother escort him the rest of the way. After depositing him safely in the little bathroom, John stepped back out and closed the door behind him, then came close to me. Speaking quietly so Ramsey couldn’t hear, he said, “Poor kid. As if being in pain isn’t enough… but I’m sure it’s a lot easier to clean his cuts without clothes. Last night the doctor told me there were a bunch of them. Let’s bring him some clothes later.”

I nodded, grimacing. After a minute we heard a flush and the sink running, then Ramsey came back out. John started back to help, but Ramsey said, “I think I’m okay now. Not as dizzy.” He carefully got back in bed, and grabbed Racky again.

Another nurse came in with a late breakfast/early lunch. He didn’t want to eat in front of us, but John told him to go ahead and finally hunger won out, and he ate all the scrambled eggs and toast and orange slices on the tray. Next was the doctor. I noticed Ramsey’s grip on the raccoon tightened while the doctor talked to him. John and I were going to leave to give him privacy, but he begged us to stay, so I got to hear first-hand while the doctor explained about his broken arm and all the bruises and welts and everything. Ramsey didn’t say anything or ask any questions; he just quietly listened and nodded, and seemed relieved when the doctor finally left.

Around 12:15 the sheriff showed up with a woman that he introduced as a county social worker, saying they wanted to talk to Ramsey. I got the impression they wanted to talk to him alone, so I got up and said, “I better go back to school. Jeff and James and I will all come back after school, okay?”

“We’ll all come back. Eddie wants to see you too,” John said.

“Okay,” Ramsey said. He shrank back in his bed, looking like he wanted to hide from the sheriff and social worker. I wanted to stay, but John nodded his head towards the door, and started after me. “John-“ Ramsey said.

John stopped and turned back.

“Can you stay? Please?”

I wanted to stay in response to the whispered plea too, but John again nodded me towards the door. “Okay,” John said. “I’ll stay.” I was impressed. John didn’t even ask Sheriff Lund if it was okay! As I headed out the door I looked back, and saw Ramsey’s right arm tighten around Racky again. It might have been silly, but I was glad I followed my instinct and got it for him. Everyone needed something to hold on to.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The idea for this short interlude came out of nowhere. Nothing monumental, but I liked it, and hope you do too! 
> 
> Book 3 will be out in a couple of days! Just waiting for my mom to finish her read-through. Yes, I've actually let my family read about these guys :P


	14. The Stepping Out Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Ramsey have a quiet afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one comes at the end of the school year, 1985, so right before the end of the previous Onward Spring. John is 24 and Ramsey is 14.

I had to delete this chapter because it's included in Summer, and Summer will most likely come out tomorrow (August 29th)! Or maybe Thursday. It had so many wonderful comments, however, I didn't want to delete it entirely yet :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a (first draft) scene from Summer. I plan to have lots more little John/Ramsey moments in Summer, and since this one is rather stand-alone, I thought I'd post it here first! Hope you liked it :)


	15. Ramsey's Seaside Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June, 1982. An 11 year-old Ramsey has a day in Seaside, Oregon. Something lighter after Carl's Story :)

**Ramsey's Seaside Holiday, June 1982**

**Ramsey, 11, soon 12**  
**Brad, 15**

 

"Hold on tight!" 

Ramsey Wade, 11, held tightly to the kite spool, the line stretching high into the sky where it connected with a kite in the shape of a koi fish. The boy was in awe of the kite, its bright greens and golds and reds capturing the afternoon June sunshine, and he thought it was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The beach was windy and cool, but he barely noticed the way his t-shirt and jeans were being buffeted around his thin frame, he was having so much fun. 

"Let out a little more line!"

"Okay!" Ramsey carefully turned the spool, letting out more line and letting the kite fly higher into the sky, then turned to grin at the boy next to him. 

"You got it!" Ken shouted, lifting one hand to high-five his new friend. 

Ramsey started to high-five back, then realized the strength of the wind would pull the kite away if he let go with even one hand for even a moment. He settled for laughing, and the dark-haired boy laughed with him. The two boys flew the kite for what seemed like forever while Ken's younger sister and cousin made a sand castle nearby. After a long winter being stuck inside various run-down apartments and abandoned houses, Ramsey was reveling in the crisp air and sunshine at the beach, complete with the sounds of the crashing waves and the smell of salt water in the air. 

"Ramsey!" The faint call reached through the wind and caused the boy to look around. At first he thought it was his new friend's dad. The call came again, and this time he recognized his brother's voice.

 **..»º*º«..**  

It had been three years since Carl had first taken his belt to Brad, and in that time Ramsey's older brothers had become increasingly secretive. Ramsey knew by now that Carl wasn't always himself. Brad seemed to know more about it, but he wasn't telling much to his little brother. Ramsey in turn had become even more silent and watchful, following Brad's lead as to when it was safe to engage with their oldest brother. Murmuring to himself about safety and not being able to trust anyone, Carl had given up working, so money was tighter than ever. Now Carl spent most of his time either tutoring his younger brothers, learning new things himself, or writing. Endlessly writing. Sometimes he left the house, especially at night, and when that happened Brad often escaped for a food run. Ramsey, always obedient to the orders of both his brothers, always stayed home awaiting their return. Always. It was hard sometimes. He hated to be by himself, and when his brothers left home he imagined all sorts of horrible things happening to them and was always hugely relieved when they returned safe and sound. Brad nearly always got home before Carl. Almost always. One time he had messed up. Carl had gotten back much sooner than expected, and Ramsey had hidden in the closet to avoid watching the whipping Brad got when he finally crept inside their house. 

Aside from finding it scary, something he didn't share with his brothers, staying home by himself was also boring, so incredibly boring. Once in a while Carl took both boys out to find clothes at a charity shop, and Ramsey loved those outings. Not just because he was able to select something that fit him, but because he was out among other people, hearing voices other than his brothers', often in strange accents, or better yet, in languages that he knew how to read but didn't really ever speak. One time he had struck up a conversation with two women speaking Russian. Carl had materialized by his side, saying nothing but watching with an enigmatic smile, and Ramsey had cut the conversation short.

Ramsey was almost 12 now, though. Surely that was old enough to go out by himself? Brad had when he was 12! Ramsey didn't like feeling like a baby, left at home all the time. He was afraid to venture out on his lonesome, however, not from fear of the world outside, but of what he might come home to. Ramsey did his best to stay out of trouble, mostly because it was in his nature to be good and obedient, but also because he was afraid of Carl taking his belt to him again. Punishments had become increasingly harsh in the last three years, with Carl even belting his favorite little brother a few times now. Ramsey knew he didn't get it as bad as Brad did, but he still tried his best to behave so it wouldn't happen again.

One June, after a quiet, dark winter spent indoors, Carl had driven his brothers to the Oregon coast. Abandoned houses proved to be hard to find, especially in the summer, but they were able to find a spot in a good campground just south of Seaside. No sooner had they arrived than something unprecedented happened. Carl announced he was driving to Portland for the day to meet with a publisher, and if Brad and Ramsey promised to behave and stay at the campground, he would let them stay by themselves. (Spending the previous three days driving in the car with two increasingly restless kids might explain Carl's willingness to leave them for the day.) Brad and Ramsey both promised, of course, and as soon as the Mustang was out of sight, Brad turned to Ramsey and said, "Let's get cleaned up and go to Seaside!" 

Ramsey eyed his brother doubtfully. "Carl said to stay here."

"Carl says lots of things. Come on, we might never get the chance again!" The young teenager grabbed two towels, a bar of soap, and a clean t-shirt out of their duffel bag and looked expectantly at his little brother.

"We promised," Ramsey objected. He knew by the gleeful look in Brad's eye that his brother was heading to town no matter what, but Ramsey was still afraid of Carl returning unexpectedly. "I don't want a licking."

"He'll be gone for hours. We'll be back way before he is."

"I don't want a licking," Ramsey repeated, even softer than before, looking down in embarrassment. 

Brad looked at his little brother. Ramsey was too sheltered, he thought. Too afraid to take a chance. He didn't know what to do about it right then, however. Seeing the obstinate, unhappy pout on his brother's face, he finally shrugged. "Well, at least come shower." 

Brad grabbed the boy by an arm and Ramsey let himself be pulled to the showers. After three days of traveling, he had to admit that it felt great to wash off all the grime! He didn't change into a clean t-shirt like Brad had, not seeing much point when he wasn't planning to go anywhere. 

"Sure you don't want to come?" Brad asked, combing his longish wavy black hair.

Ramsey mutely shook his head.

"Suit yourself. I'll be back later." Brad took two steps then stopped and looked back, eyebrows raised, giving Ramsey a final chance to come. When his little brother shook his head again, Brad said, "Okay then." He pointed a finger at the boy and ordered, "You stay here. I don't want you getting lost." Brad shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and, with his head hunched over, quickly headed out of the campground and towards Seaside. 

Ramsey sat on the picnic table bench with his wet hair and watched his brother go, feeling annoyed at Brad for leaving him, but even more annoyed at himself for staying. Brad was right. Carl most likely would be gone for hours, and here he was sitting with nothing to do all day but read. His violin was in the car for safekeeping from the elements and was now on its way to Portland. All that had been unpacked was the duffel bag, a tarp (to give the illusion that the campsite was occupied), a water jug, and a couple of novels. The boy wrapped his arms around himself against the morning chill and huffed in annoyance. Here was his chance to get out in the world, and not even by himself (which he admitted scared him too) but with Brad, and he had said no? What was wrong with him? He wavered another minute then rummaged in the bag to find a clean shirt for himself, then got up and ran after Brad.

**..»º*º«..**

No one thought anything seeing an 11 year-old running along Highway 101, just as no one had thought it odd to see a 15 year-old hurrying along it a short time earlier. There were lots of kids in and around Seaside in the summer. Ramsey stayed out of the way of the cars passing on the two-lane highway, watching ahead of him for his brother, but Brad must have already made it to town. 

Ramsey dashed across the highway and walked into Seaside. A lot of small towns on the Oregon coast had taffy shops and tourist traps, but Seaside was something special. It boasted restaurants, candy shops, souvenir shops, kite shops, art galleries, and several arcades, all lining the sides of a street leading straight to the beach. Ramsey hadn't seen anything like it. As he took in the wonders of the resort town, he forgot about searching for Brad, and even forgot a lot of his fear at being out alone. He looked in the window of each shop, particularly the candy shops, wishing he had some of Brad's money. One shop had an entire wall with baskets of taffy, each basket containing a different flavor! With renewed determination, he started searching for his brother. Maybe Brad would give him a dollar to spend on taffy.

A few shops later, he entered one of the arcades and spied his middle brother. It wasn't a video arcade, but a more old-fashioned one, with games more typically seen at fairs. Ramsey didn't know that, of course, never having been to a fair or a video arcade, but everything sure looked like fun! And loud, too. He was about to call out to his brother when he noticed the 15 year-old was in the middle of a group of other teens his own age. Ramsey ducked behind a ring-toss game to watch. He had rarely seen Brad with other people, and now seeing him look so... natural, talking and laughing easily with the others, he felt sad and wistful. Ramsey knew he and his brothers usually looked like they didn’t fit in, dressed oddly in ill-fitting clothes as they always did, but in his t-shirt, jeans, and windbreaker, Brad looked just like the others. Ramsey didn't want to interrupt. He didn't think Brad would be angry that he followed after telling him to stay put, but the other kids all looked 15 or 16 and probably wouldn't want an 11 year-old hanging out with them. Brad would probably feel obligated to leave them and take care of him, and Ramsey didn't want that. He could look after himself, and let Brad have his own day of fun!

Ramsey slipped out of the shop, hurrying past the arcade windows, wondering what to do with himself. It was one thing to be stoic and give Brad a carefree afternoon. It was another to be penniless in a tourist town with temptations all around! He wandered for a time, eventually finding himself in another candy store. So many temptations! Too many to resist. A few minutes later Ramsey left the store, grateful that his jeans were still too big and had lots of room in the pockets. Out on the street again, he pulled a piece of taffy out of his pocket. It was yellow. Banana. He took a small bite, savoring every bit of flavor that he could get from it, and did the same for every other pilfered piece of candy. He had only taken four pieces of taffy and a small chocolate bar. The candy made him thirsty, and luckily he found a water fountain on the boardwalk. He drank his fill and continued wandering, stopping again when he got to a kite shop. He bet he could make a kite. Maybe he'd try it back at the campground – Carl always had old newspapers on hand – and maybe Carl would even take them all to the beach the next day! His kite wouldn't be as pretty as the ones in the store, but Ramsey was used to making due with things, and knew just going to the beach with both of his brothers would be a special treat. He'd just have to be especially obedient and well-behaved in the meantime, so Carl wouldn't have any reason not to allow it. And he'd have to be sure to get home before his oldest brother returned from Portland! 

Next Ramsey stopped in one of the many art galleries, ignoring the curious glances sent his direction. After perhaps fifteen minutes, the gallery owner, Samantha, walked over. It wasn't every day a small boy entered by himself and gazed with such rapt attention at every work of art. 

"See anything you like?" she asked, smiling gently when the boy startled at being spoken to.

He looked around the shop in a panic, then seemed to realize there was no danger. He took a deep breath, gave a shaky smile, then pointed to a sketch a few feet away. "I really like that one."

Samantha looked back at the image. It was a sketch she had done of her daughter when the girl was six. It depicted her crouching in the sand digging for clams on the beach, sun hat on her head, sun dress dirty, thoroughly having fun.

"She looks so happy," Ramsey said. 

"That's my daughter. She  _was_  very happy that day," Samantha replied, smiling in remembrance. 

Ramsey reached out a hand, stopping short of touching the clean glass, but still pointed to the eyes of the child in the picture. "Around the eyes, she's smiling." Dropping his hand, he asked, "Did you draw this?"

"Yes, I did."

"It's amazing." 

Samantha and Ramsey talked sketching techniques for the next hour as they made their way around the gallery. She hadn't done every work in the shop, but quite a few. It was a treat for Ramsey to meet someone else who loved to draw, and he soaked up every bit of advice she dropped his way. When she was finally called away to help another customer, Ramsey thanked her 'for letting him into her gallery' and headed back out to the boardwalk.

Ramsey made his way to the beach where he got his first view of the Pacific Ocean. He remembered playing in the Gulf of Mexico when he was little. That had been hot and muggy and the water had been warm and buoyant. Here on the beach at Seaside, lots of people were walking along the shoreline and wading, but no one was swimming. Too cold. And windy! He hadn't expected the sharp winds, though all the kite shops might have been a clue, he realized with a laugh. When the boardwalk ended he kicked off his shoes and carried them in his left hand and walked through the dunes. The sand became wet and packed the closer he drew to the water, and he shivered when he finally made it to stand at the edge, the waves lapping gently at his feet and ankles. Setting his shoes down a little further up the sand, he returned to the water, and was soon racing back and forth with the waves, happily kicking at the water, practically dancing in his carefree movements. 

After wearing himself out, he retrieved his shoes and went to sit on some driftwood and watched the other people on the beach. The sun glistening off the waves was almost hypnotic, and he wasn't paying attention to any one person, just taking in the whole experience of people having fun with their families and friends.

Suddenly a boy around his own age ran up. "Hi! I'm Ken. Want to try?" In his hands the boy held one of the brightly colored kites from the shop. A fish.

"Um, sure! I'm Ramsey." 

That was all the introduction the two boys needed. Well, Ken nodded towards two younger girls playing in the sand and said a careless, "That's my sister and cousin." And  _that_  was all the introduction the kids needed! Ken and Ramsey spent the next few hours flying Ken's kite. At first Ramsey was worried about the wind carrying the kite away – the gusts were so strong that at times it took both of them hanging on to the spool! The girls joined them for a time, as did Ken's parents. No one asked him where his own parents were, or what he was doing by himself, probably taking it for granted that they were nearby. This was fantastic! What had Ramsey been worried about, going out without his brothers? Since leaving Brad at the arcade, he'd barely even thought about them!

Then came that call through the wind. "Ramsey!" 

Ramsey turned and saw Brad heading towards him, jacket pulled tight against the wind. "Hi!" he called happily, hoping his brother wasn't mad at him. "That's my brother, Brad!" he told Ken, who waved hello. 

When Brad was close enough, Ramsey introduced them properly, proud of his brother and proud of making a friend. Not at all angry at the disobedient boy, Brad helped reel in the kite when the boys asked, struggling himself to pull it in against the strong winds, not that he would have admitted it to his adoring little brother. Then he took off his jacket and put it around Ramsey, zipping it shut.

Ken's parents had built a campfire in the lee of several driftwood logs and invited the two brothers to roast hot dogs with them. After glancing at the sun to guess the time, Brad accepted the invitation and soon he and Ramsey were stuffed. With the appearance of his older brother, and joining the adults at the campfire, Ramsey had turned shy and didn't object when Brad at last said they had to be getting home. 

As they made their way through town, both boys told each other about their days, their impromptu Seaside holiday. They had a slight moment of panic when they saw a clock along the street and realized how late it was, but still managed to find time to stop in an ice cream shop where they spent the last $3.00 of Brad's money on enormous chocolate sundaes. They got back to their campsite as dusk fell, and Brad made a campfire for warmth. They had beat Carl home.

**..»º*º«..**

Thanks for reading! :)


	16. The Expo Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Kids today don’t know the fear of hearing leather rapidly being removed through 7 Wrangler belt loops.”—from a Facebook post.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly a trigger warning, but the older boys get in trouble for behaving foolishly with derringers at a gun show.

**Saturday, June 1st, 1974**

**Scott 14, John 13, Eddie 9, Cutter/Brian 6**  

“No problem,” he had said. “You go on to work. I’ll take the boys myself, and we’ll have a great time.” Sheriff Lund wondered what he had been thinking when he said those words to his old friend Russell Lofton mere hours before. The men had planned for weeks to take their boys to the Sportsmen’s Expo in Rapid City that Saturday. School had let out the previous day and they thought this would be a fun way to kick off the summer. Plus, Scott and John were getting older and their fathers wanted to surprise them by getting them their own canoes. Eddie was old enough to enjoy the expo, and 6 year-old Brian? Well, he was coming along to give his mother a break for a day. The fact that he had dredged up a few crocodile tears at the thought of being left behind (and away from his beloved brother John for an _entire day!_ ), that of course had nothing to do with it.

The morning of the expo, however, Russell had been called in to an emergency at work. Faced with the prospect of disappointing four boys who had been looking forward to this for weeks, the sheriff had gamely said he could manage on his own. The Lofton boys were generally well-behaved, at least they were when their parents were around. And his own son? He had never had to worry about Scott misbehaving in public. Scott was much too level-headed for foolishness... plus, he knew what his father’s sure reaction would be to any nonsense. Such short-sighted optimism he had held just that morning! What had he been thinking?

The day had started off well. The boys had piled into his Ford pick-up truck, Brian and Eddie in the cab with him, and Scott and John back in the bed. Eddie was content to play with the radio, but Brian kept turning around in the seat to look longingly at the older boys. Still, he had behaved, more or less. Once at the fairgrounds, the sheriff had directed John to look after Brian, and Scott to keep tabs on Eddie. He thought that had been rather clever of him! He knew John was regularly tasked with Brian, and he knew Scott liked all the Lofton kids, so being saddled with one 9 year-old was no big deal.

The Sportsmen’s Expo was designed with fun for the whole family. In addition to the vendors and exhibitors, there were lots of activities for children. The boys were nearly overwhelmed when they saw everything.

“Over there!” Brian said, already tugging on John and pointing to a batting cage.

“Hang on,” John replied, holding tighter to the small hand in his.

Sheriff Lund glanced at his wristwatch, then back at the group of four boys standing in front of him. “It’s nearly 10:30 now. Let’s meet back here at noon, okay? We’ll get lunch at the concessions. Sound good?”

Three ‘yessirs’ and one distracted _‘come onnnn, John!’_ greeted that statement.

“You boys stick together,” the man ordered before releasing them to the crowd. He chuckled watching Brian pull John towards the kid-friendly activities, then went off to look at guns and talk to the gun vendors. He had been the Jackson County Sheriff for three years now, and he liked to keep tabs on the firearms moving in and out of his jurisdiction. Plus, he liked guns and was old friends with many of the people both selling and purchasing the wares on display.

Meanwhile, the three older boys allowed themselves to be pulled over to the batting cage. Brian was outfitted with child-sized batting glove, helmet, and bat. He had to wait his turn while an older girl hit the ball (for much too long a time, Brian was sure!), and when it was his turn, he eagerly ran up.

“I can do it myself!” he protested when John came inside the cage right behind him.

“This isn’t like T-ball,” John said, positioning the little boy so he wouldn’t get hit. “The ball is moving.”

“I know!” Brian whined, stamping one little foot for good measure.

“Cut the attitude or you can skip it.”

Brian pouted. The whole point in going to the batting cage was to show John (and maybe Scott, a little) that he could play baseball too! The two older boys had played Little League for years, and the little boy admired them so much! When he was older he was going to play baseball too, and had even started T-ball that spring. He turned sad eyes on John, who for a change looked ready to withstand an assault of puppy-dog eyes. Changing his tactics, Brian said, “M’sorry.” He gazed adoringly up at John, who smiled back and signaled that they were ready for the pitching machine to start. Brian readied the bat, grinning to himself. He knew John couldn’t stay mad at him!

Brian gave it a good three minutes, swinging every time the baseball was released, and actually managed to connect a few times. He wasn’t about to admit it, but once the pitching machine started lobbing balls at him, he quickly got scared and wanted out of the batting cage! He gamely swung every time so the older boys wouldn’t know he was terrified. John noticed the tense set of the little boy’s shoulders and figured that even though the pitching machine was set to the slowest speed, it must still be scary to find a baseball heading towards you at eye level! When Brian’s bat somehow touched the ball for the third time, John used that as an excuse to quit.

“That’s enough,” he called, and the attendant cut the machine.

“Already?” the little boy asked, masking his relief that he had survived.

John smirked. “Yes, time to give someone else a chance.” He quickly divested his little brother of the gear and asked Eddie if he wanted to try.

“No way!” Eddie said, taking a step back right into Scott, who put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Eddie played Little League too, but he was pretty content in the outfield. He had no desire to try this fast-paced pitching machine!

John and Scott both took turns, competing with each other to see who could hit the most balls in the same five-minute period. Scott won, but it was a close match.

“See anything you want to try?” Scott asked Eddie.

The 9 year-old looked around, then pointed at the archery set-up. “Can we do that? I’m good at archery!”

“I want to join Cub Scouts too!” Brian interjected, knowing that the Scouts was where Eddie had tried archery before.

“One more year to wait,” John said. “But you can try it here.”

The boys all tried their hands at archery, with child and youth-sized recurve and compound bows. The older boys were alright, but Eddie was surprisingly good and shone at the sport. When he finished his third round of bulls-eyes, he grinned triumphantly at the others.

“Good job!” John said, giving his little brother a high-five.

“Yeah, you were fantastic,” Scott agreed. He looked around for a clock, but didn’t see one. “Let’s find out the time.”

They wandered a little, but didn’t see a clock, so Scott asked someone for the time. They had five minutes to meet his father! They rushed back to the entrance, just as the sheriff strode up. He smiled at their promptness.

“Anyone hungry for lunch?” he asked, knowing that was a silly question to ask of four growing boys. After they all ate enough to put an army battalion to shame, he gave them a new meeting time, two hours on, and they split up again. Now he was off to look at the fishing equipment and hopefully select good canoes for the older boys. And if he had time, he just might circle back to the firearms.

The afternoon held lots more activities for the boys. They shot pellet guns, paddled a short canoe around a shallow wading pool (and just missed seeing Sheriff Lund as he ducked out of sight, having just scouted out the canoes), and now were at a deeper pool stocked with trout. Scott and John thought it was rather lame, but the younger boys were having fun. Eddie had already caught three fish, which were released back into the pool, and Brian had caught two.

John turned in his fishing rod. “Let’s do something else, guys.”

“No!” Brian objected, tossing his line. “I want to catch some more!”

“This is boring. Let’s look around some more.” Sometimes he got tired of always catering to his little brothers. He loved them, but sometimes he just wanted to do something without having to teach a bunch of little followers how to do it too.

“I caught another one!” Eddie exclaimed, excitedly reeling it in.

“I think they starve the fish before stocking the pond,” Scott said in a low voice to John, making his friend laugh. “Hardly even need bait!”

“Yeah, I mean how can you _not_ catch a fish? There’s hundreds in there!” John agreed. Luckily his little brothers didn’t hear his potentially hurtful words. He waited and after Eddie had showed off his fine six-inch trout, he removed the fish from the hook and tossed it back in the pool, no doubt to be caught again in a few minutes.

 "Had enough?” Scott asked the younger two.

“No!” they both whined.

“He has two more than me!” Brian said. “I need to catch up!”

John groaned in frustration, recognizing his little brother’s tired tone. The 6 year-old was just out of kindergarten and still took a nap every afternoon. Skipping it now meant his emotions were close to the surface and he was just that much closer to a tantrum if he didn’t get his way. John and Scott wanted to check out the firearms, and they had spent so long fishing that they were running out of time. Giving it another try, he cajoled, “Don’t you want to see the guns with us?”

“No!”

Then Brian squealed as he got another fish on the line. He reeled it in, nearly losing it from all his dancing around. John affirmed that it was just as long as Eddie’s fish had been before tossing it back into the pool. He rolled his eyes at Scott, who grinned and shrugged.

“Look, Scott and I are gonna go check out the firearms. We’ll let you keep fishing, but you have to promise to stay here, alright?”

Scott’s eyes widened at this new idea of splitting up after they’d been told to stay together, but he couldn’t find it in himself to object. He loved fishing from the lake or a stream, but this stocked pond stuff was for babies and he was getting bored too.

“We promise!” both little boys immediately said.

“You have to take your own fish off the hooks,” John cautioned.

“Can you do that, Eddie?” Scott asked.

When the 9 year-old nodded distractedly, both older boys headed off. “Stay here, we’ll come back for you,” John ordered as they walked away.

John and Scott wandered the firearms aisles. They had both been raised to respect guns and could recite the rules of gun safety in their sleep. They were no more going to play with guns than their fathers would. Still, they were young teenagers, and after twenty minutes or so or seeing so many hundreds of guns laid out on table for their perusal, not to mention so many firearms being handled by so many people, their ingrained respect for the weapons took a backseat to their excitement. Of particular interest was one display loaded with derringers. Westerns were a constant in both houses, and recently the boys had watched a movie where a gambler carried a derringer up his sleeve.

“This would be fantastic,” John proclaimed, holding up a small black derringer. He held it on his arm about where the gambler had kept his. He mimicked the motion of the release mechanism, allowing the gun to travel down his arm to his hand. “What’s it called? That thing up his sleeve?”

Scott shrugged. “A holster?”

The vendor leaned forward. “A wrist holster or a sleeve gun.”

“Do you have one? Can we try it?” John asked, looking for one among the other items in the booth.

“No, sorry, boys.”

Scott picked up a replica derringer, expertly opening and closing it, while John started spinning his like the gunslingers on TV. The vendor wasn’t too concerned, knowing they weren’t loaded, though he idly wondered where the boys’ parents were.

Meanwhile, Sheriff Lund set down the intricately carved bone handled knife he had been examining and decided to see where the kids were. They had been at the Expo for hours already, and he suspected the younger boys might be getting tired. Brian was still taking naps, wasn’t he? He thought back to Scott’s younger days, thinking that skipping it occasionally was alright. Besides, his parents had sent him out for the day without a second thought. He was glad to give Susanna a break from the rambunctious youngster for a few hours. She still had the two younger boys with her, but with her health… he shook his head to clear his thoughts and renewed his search for the children.

Out of all the excited childish voices that surrounded him, he was able to pick out two that he recognized. Going up to the trout pond, he was soon being regaled with the tale of catching each and every fish, eleven for Eddie, and ten for Brian.

“You are quite the fishermen,” the sheriff said, causing both boys to grin with delight. That meant a lot, coming from the sheriff! “Say, where are Scott and John?”

“Lookin’ at guns,” Brian volunteered.

“Can we stay out here and fish some more?” Eddie pleaded. “I want to catch 20!”

“Me too!”

“Stay right here. We’ll fetch you when it’s time to go.”

The sheriff went back to the firearms booths, wandering around until he heard the voices of the two young teens he was seeking. They were looking at derringers, no – make that they were practicing quick draws with a pair of derringers each, spinning them around after each draw. He rolled his eyes, irritated at their childish behavior. The boys weren’t even wearing holsters, and they were too old to pretend like that. No, they weren’t too old to pretend, if they had toy guns, but they knew better than to play like that with real ones! Especially Scott. He had drilled into his son’s head that guns weren’t a toy, and even though the little derringers looked like toys, they most assuredly were not. The fact that they were unloaded was irrelevant.

The sheriff drew near the two boys, crossed his arms, fixed a stern look on his face, and cleared his throat. Scott and John were too busy to notice, being in a competition to see how many times they could spin the guns in each hand. Sheriff Lund cleared his throat a second time. He was quite the imposing sight, a tall well-built man gazing out with eagle eyes from under his black cowboy hat. Unfortunately, the two boys in whom he wanted to instill fear weren’t paying attention.

After a full minute of being ignored (a record, the sheriff was sure), he uncrossed his arms and deliberately reached down and unbuckled his belt, rapidly pulling the leather through the belt loops of his jeans. That distinctive sound, amidst all the noise of the Sportsmen’s Expo, finally stopped the boys in their tracks. As one, they looked towards the sound just in time to see Scott’s father double his belt. Two other teens from a nearby table also went on instant alert, sidling away when they realized it wasn’t one of their parents brandishing the belt.

Gulping, Scott said, “Hi, Dad.”

Struck with sudden fear, John remained wordless, but hastily set his derringers back on the table. Scott followed suit, then both boys silently waited to see what the sheriff meant to do with his doubled belt. _Please, not in here,_ John prayed.

Sheriff Lund used his belt to point towards the exit to the parking lot. “Go.”

Scott grabbed John’s arm, and the two scurried towards the exit. They were acutely aware of Scott’s father following them, belt in hand, the situation clear to anyone who might be watching. John kept his head down, tears of mortification already forming and threatening to fall. Scott darted glances back at his dad, partly in hope that he had returned the belt to its proper place (he hadn’t), or at least wasn’t carrying it out in the open (he was), and partly to be sure that he was keeping far enough ahead that he wouldn’t get any hurry-up swats on the way.

Once in the parking lot, the sheriff led the way back to the truck and lowered the tailgate. “Sit.”

Both boys hoisted themselves onto the tailgate, careful to hop up backwards, eyes still on the belt firmly held in the sheriff’s right hand. Then the man crossed his arms again, the belt prominently displayed at eye level now.

“Well?” he barked. “What was that display inside?”

Scott swallowed. It had been on the tip of his tongue to say they had just been playing, but fortunately his brain kicked in before he said that, knowing that ‘playing’ and ‘guns’ in the same sentence would only make a horrible situation even worse. Unfortunately, John’s brain wasn’t quite there yet. With the imposing man awaiting a reply which it seemed Scott wasn’t going to give, he panicked and blurted out, “We were just playing.” Scott winced. He knew that’s what they had been doing, of course, but having the words spoken meant there was no going back now.

“I beg your pardon. Did you say ‘playing’?” The sheriff leaned in as if he must have heard it wrong.

“Yes, sir,” John said lowly, ducking his head.

“And do we ‘play’ with guns?”

“No, sir,” Scott said faintly, echoed by John.

“What’s the first rule of gun safety?”

“Treat every firearm like it’s loaded,” they recited together.

“Were you treating those derringers like they were loaded?”

“No, sir,” Scott said.

“But we knew they weren’t loaded!” John protested in a moment of bravery. Scott groaned at his foolish friend.

“So, you decided to spin them around?” came the angry, sarcastic reply. “Was that treating them like they were loaded?”

“No, sir,” John acknowledged, practically whispering, wanting the sheriff’s eyes off of him.

Sheriff Lund gazed intently at John another few seconds, then asked once more, “What’s the first rule of gun safety?”

“Treat every firearm like it’s loaded.”

“Second rule.” The sheriff led them through a recital of all the gun rules that had been drilled into both boys, stopping and questioning them about particular ones, making them repeat certain ones. After several minutes of this, he thought both teens had gotten the point that spinning derringers and quick drawing them from pretend holsters violated most if not all of the rules, and thank heavens the younger boys hadn’t been around, because what kind of example would that have been setting. “Any questions?” he finally asked, ending the lecture.

Both boys shook their heads. John continued looking down at the gravel somewhere past the sheriff’s legs, trying to avoid both the man’s angry gaze as well as the sight of the belt, but Scott did his best to meet his father’s eyes. He knew his father saw that as a sign of respect. Neither of them mentioned the fact that they had left the younger boys on their own. They were in enough trouble without bringing that up!

“All right. Hop off and turn around.” The sheriff stood back and waited for the boys to hop off the tailgate. Scott turned around first, leaning over the tailgate and burying his head in his arms. Feeling in a daze, John followed his example. At least they were parked at the edge of the lot. People were coming and going, but they were more or less out of sight. And, John fleetingly thought as he awaited the first lick, at least they were allowed to keep their jeans up.

The sheriff alternated swats to the boys, two first to Scott, then two to his younger friend. Scott took his stoically. So did John, though the sheriff thought he heard a hiss at the second lick. It wasn’t the first time he had spanked both boys. Independently the two were responsible, almost to a fault, but together, they seemed to lose their inhibitions and engaged in foolish behavior. He knew the two hadn’t been in any actual danger by their behavior, but he took gun safety very seriously, especially since taking the job of sheriff. Treating weapons so casually set a terrible precedent. Guns were always to be handled with respect. And what if the younger boys had been along? The sheriff could easily imagine feisty little Brian getting hold of a pistol and spinning it as the older boys had done. He knew the little boy followed his brother John around and copied his every action. He shuddered at the thought and let the next two cracks to each boy fall sharper.

Scott’s grip on his crossed arms got tighter, but he remained silent. John, to his eternal shame, started to cry. Silently, or as near silently as he could make it, but he cried. The sheriff’s words had gotten to him, and his thoughts were now in tune with the man wielding the belt. What if Brian had seen him acting so foolishly? He wasn’t worried about Eddie. Eddie was too sensible. Though he was supposedly sensible too and – _crack_ – and look at what – _crack_ – he had done. John dissolved in tears, glad his head was buried. Scott’s father continued alternating swats between the young teens until they had each received a solid dozen.

The thrashing stopped, and all went quiet except for the hushed sound of crying. The boys remained in place. Then they heard the sound of the belt being threaded through the belt loops and the buckle being fastened. Knowing it was over, they both painfully straightened and turned to face Scott’s father, wiping their eyes and trying not to appear as if they’d just received the worst licking they’d ever gotten together.

“Are we going to have any more foolishness?”

“No, sir,” both boys replied.

Sheriff Lund opened his arms, and Scott immediately fell into them. John awkwardly held back. He was always embarrassed when his friend’s father punished him, and while he wanted comfort afterwards, the man wasn’t his own father, and… his thoughts were interrupted as the sheriff pulled him close, embracing him along with his son. When their sobs lessened, he stood back, a firm grip on each of their shoulders. “I’m going back in to check on Eddie and Brian. Come join us when you’re ready.”

As soon as he was out of sight, both young teens rubbed their behinds, unsuccessfully trying to ease the hurt away. John was certain it was going to ache for hours! He was no stranger to getting spanked with a belt, but he thought Scott’s father had a heavier hand than his own.

The sheriff, meanwhile, was walking back to the expo, and was surprised to see Russell Lofton also on his way in. “Emergency resolved?”

“Sure thing. Thought I’d surprise you all and give a hand with the canoes. The boys all inside?”

“Eddie and Brian are. I had to whip the older ones just now.” He nodded back towards the truck, then told his friend what their boys had done. Russell was angrily shaking his head, hands itching to spank his son himself. “I doubt they’ll be needing anymore,” the sheriff observed.

“That so?” Russell asked doubtfully, glancing back towards the pick-up where he could see both teens rubbing at their bottoms. The sheriff looked back also, then the two shared a rueful grin. “Okay, maybe so.”

They quickly found the younger boys and made a big to-do when they each reeled in their twentieth fish. Scott and John came along just in time to see it and tried to ignore their own pain to congratulate the little boys.

The fathers and sons all together now, Russell told his sons, “I’ll let you each have one thing from the show, as long as it isn’t too extravagant.”

“Anything?” Brian asked, hopping up and down. “A fishing pole?”

His father laughed at the modest request. “Yes, you may have a fishing pole. How about you, Eddie?” he asked his shyer son.

Eddie looked back towards the archery range. “Is a bow too ‘stravagant?”

“Extravagant,” Russell clarified. “I think we can manage to find one that’s not too extravagant.” While Eddie grinned from ear to ear he asked John, “What about you?”

John hadn’t spoken to his father since returning to the group, other than a surprised hello. He was too ashamed of his behavior to ask for anything and too embarrassed at his most-likely-still-reddened eyes to even look up for more than a second. “I don’t need anything,” he said, thinking he didn’t deserve anything. “Maybe a fishing pole for James too?”

The two men exchanged glances. Sheriff Lund didn’t bother asking Scott if he wanted a treat from the Expo. He knew Scott would give a reply similar to John’s. The group examined the fishing poles, finding one for Brian and one to bring home to 5 year-old James, then found a recurve bow for Eddie. It was slightly too big for him, but that just meant he had several years of play ahead of him while he grew into it. The small boys carried their new possessions happily and carefully in their arms. Usually Christmas and birthdays were the only occasions on which the boys received presents, so this was a very special day for them.

John and Scott followed, trying to be happy for the younger kids, knowing they had kissed any chance of getting anything for themselves goodbye when they had acted so foolishly with the guns. What, were they going to ask for derringers? Not a chance. Ironically, if they hadn’t been caught carelessly twirling them around their dads might have actually considered it. They both had air rifles and had often gone out with their fathers to shoot other rifles and pistols. But now, no.

The two families headed towards the exit when Russell suddenly stopped, scratching his head. “Seems like there was something else we were going to get. Now, what was it?”

“A set of steak knives?” the sheriff asked, hiding a grin.

“No, that wasn’t it.”

“I know, Daddy. Bait!”

They all laughed, and Russell swung Brian into his arms to carry him. “No, son, not bait.”

“Let’s just walk around, maybe something will jog your memory.”

Scott hid his dismay at his father’s suggestion. He just wanted to go home and lay down on his bed. On his stomach! Each step he was forced to take was another painful reminder of his misbehavior and subsequent punishment. He caught John’s eye and noticed the same dismay on his face. Neither was about to complain, however, and they dutifully followed their dads as they wandered around seemingly aimlessly.

At long last they found themselves in front of the canoes and kayaks. Russell stopped and propped his chin on one hand in thought. “Hmm… something about these… what do you think?”

His friend pretended to consider. “I don’t know. Are you thinking of taking up canoeing? That’s a young man’s game.”

Russell laughed. “We’re not so old yet, but maybe you’re right. Know any teenagers that might like a canoe?”

John and Scott perked up at that question, looking between their fathers. Surely not…

The disgraced teens might be afraid to break the silence, but the 6 year-old wasn’t. “Johnny’s a teenager!”

“So is Scott,” Eddie put in with a grin, understanding where the adults were going with this.

The two fathers looked at their sons as if this was a new thought. “John? Scott?” Russell finally asked. “Would you boys like canoes?”

“Really? For us?” Scott asked, hoping this wasn’t a big prank. His father wasn’t given to mean pranks, though, and he felt a slow smile starting as hope grew.

“After…?” John didn’t continue his thought, not wanting to mention his misbehavior and give idiotic ideas to the younger boys.

“Well?” the sheriff asked. He put his hands on his hips expectantly, the sparkle in his eye giving lie to his sternness.

At that, John grinned. “Yes, sir. You bet!”

“Yay! We get a canoe!” Brian shouted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This one was inspired by a Facebook post that my dad's cousin shared. He's 'of the era' when such a statement would be true, and when I read it I thought, yup, that's something these boys were probably familiar with! (I purposely separated the older boys from the younger ones when the sheriff pulls off his belt, because there's no way he would have ever wanted the little ones to think they might be getting spanked with it.) 
> 
> Summer, the fourth book in the series, is coming along very nicely! I might actually finish it by the end of August :)
> 
> Lastly, if you've read the books and enjoyed them, please, please [review them on Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/Karen-Anker/e/B077LZ248T)! I know some of you love these guys and their story. Thank you so much to everyone who has given me their support and encouragement!!


	17. Author announcement - Summer is out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth novel is finished and now available!

 

Hello! The fourth novel, _Summer_ , is out today! It's available in Kindle and paperback formats: [here](https://www.amazon.com/dp/1981836004) . If you have Kindle Unlimited you can read it for free! (All 4 books are available that way.)

If you read _Summer_ as it was originally posted on AO3, it is a LOT different now. Some of the scenes are similar (the storm and the birthdays), but the camping is out - replaced by what I hope are much better things.

The picture on the cover is Jeff Lofton, btw. I worked with a designer to make the blue & white covers, and she suggested this one for Ramsey. Not Ramsey at all, but it's just how I imagined Jeff! In case you're wondering who is on the other covers, it's Ramsey on Autumn, John on Winter, Brad on Spring.

I hope you like it! It wraps some things up, but opens even more doors, so if you like it and want the series to continue, please let me know! (Otherwise I have a scifi series on the back burner). And of course, please review on Amazon if you like it - it's much appreciated! 

I have more interludes on the way, and a white board full of ideas for taking this series forward.

Thanks for your support!


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